


I'm getting closer than I ever thought I might

by wonthetrade



Series: my head's not bowed [5]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Multi, Polyamory, Rule 63, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-22 20:53:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6093745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonthetrade/pseuds/wonthetrade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan doesn't want to be a homewrecker; she has no intention of coming between her already-in-love teammates. </p><p>It's too bad she can't get her heart to follow suit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm getting closer than I ever thought I might

**Author's Note:**

> AKA: The Girl Brigade fic we never thought we'd write until Ryan got insistent. 
> 
> If you got here by searching yourself or someone you know, turn back now. It's for your own health and safety.
> 
> This fic takes place during the 2011-2012 season.

 

Ryan’s the first girl drafted to the Oilers. The entire experience is...unremarkable. Anticlimactic. Ryan’s been the first girl on a lot of teams and she’s kind of old hat at all the adjustments now. She knows she’s going to have to work at getting the trust and approval of her teammates, knows she’s going to have to prove she can hack it alongside the other star rookies Edmonton’s collecting. As for the hazing - well, she’s just going to have to hope that it’s no worse than the usual rookie stuff.

Instead, Ryan’s adopted by Taylor Hall and Jordan Eberle. They find her on social media right after the draft, inundating her with offers to eat and hang out once she gets to Edmonton. From there it’s easy to just exchange numbers and they text back and forth all summer until she feels like she knows them already.

Still, it’s a little surprising when she pulls into Sam Gagner’s driveway and they’re there waiting. “Nuge!” Taylor bellows the moment she steps out of her car, coming over in a few large strides and sweeping her up in his arms.

Ryan laughs out loud, a little taken aback but going with it nonetheless. If there’s any motto she’s adopted over the years (beyond variations of “just keep swimming”), it’s “go with it.” Taylor’s not the first boisterous teammate she’s had, nor will he be the last. “Taylor?” she hazards when he sets her on her feet. All the game tape she’s seen hasn’t prepared her for the fact that he has the bluest eyes she’s ever seen.

“Yeah, Taylor, or Hallsy. That’s Jordan, or Ebs, or Ebby,” he says, stepping aside.

Jordan goes for a hug too, but he’s much more sedate that Taylor. And it’s strange, but greeting them is like greeting old friends. She’s instantly at ease, no awkwardness whatsoever. “It’s nice to finally meet you in person, Nuge,” he says warmly. “Or is it Ryan?”

The door flies open and Gags steps out, rolling his eyes. “One day. All I asked was for you two doofuses to stay away for one day, so that you wouldn’t scare our newest rookie all the way back to BC.”

“We’ve been talking to her all summer and haven’t managed to do that,” Taylor protests, looking wounded.

Sam looks skeptical, but Ryan just laughs. “It’s true.” She pops open her trunk. “So, are you guys just going to stand there or are you going to help me with my stuff?”

Taylor scrambles to shove a bag at Jordan’s chest and Ryan finds herself thinking she’s going to like Edmonton just fine.

 

Edmonton’s great, actually. It’s really, really great, even if it’s cold and they’re still kind of losing more games than they’re winning, Ryan can’t really complain. Edmonton has hockey and it has the team, and Ryan’s feels pretty good about the way she’s fitting in. 

The only thing is: these are a bunch of guys who are so obviously not used to having a girl on their team. Ryan understands this. It’s not going to be the same as playing in Red Deer where the guys had time to get to know her. She has to start from scratch. But she’s also very aware (because Taylor cannot keep a secret to save his damn life) that the Serious Talk the guys had received from management was, to simplify it, mostly about how to deal with a locker room that included a constant female presence. 

Which means most of the guys do almost everything in their power to avoid touching her. 

Most days it’s not a problem. But then they’re down two goals at the end of the second in a game against Boston and even though both Taylor and Ryan are sitting on a point apiece, Ryan feels like they can’t get things together. She’s twitching under her skin, her leg bouncing. On the Rebels, the guys had a system, had no problem wrapping an arm around her shoulders or tugging her into a quick hug to calm her down. 

She hadn’t really realized she’d been missing it until this exact moment. 

She huffs and pushes herself up having already tossed off her pads. Her eyes float around the room before they fall on Taylor. If anyone will go along with this, it’s him. Her feet are already moving, until she’s standing right in front of him and Jordan.

“Hug me.”

Taylor blinks those big, blue eyes at her. “Huh?” 

Ryan almost rolls her eyes. “I need you to hug me,” she repeats and tries to keep from shifting from skate to skate. She doesn’t even realize she’s holding her breath until his arms wrap around her and she sags against him, letting out all the tension in one, hissing breath. He doesn’t even question her and that’s what makes her well and truly happy.

“Me too!” Jordan’s arms snake around them both and Ryan lets out a laugh.

“I really needed that,” she confesses into Taylor’s shoulder. “Sometimes I just…”

Someone’s fingers tangle in the ends of her hair. “Need a hug? Human contact?” Jordan suggests quietly. “You don’t even need to ask us, Nuge.”

“Never,” Taylor agrees and that’s everything she needed to hear.

 

The first time she sees it, it’s more of an oh moment. It’s not unexpected or even a surprise. All the Oilers talk about Taylor and Jordan and the connection between them. Ryan just isn’t sure this is the connection anyone had in mind. 

They have her over often. Since the day she’d shown up in Edmonton, she hasn’t gone a day without seeing them, which is totally okay. She genuinely enjoys spending time with them, and it helps solidify their on-ice chemistry. She likes the easy way they all click. 

The only frustrating thing is that all that chemistry doesn’t seem to help them out with the actual winning. It’s not about making the points because they do, more often than not, even if Ryan’s a little inexperienced at playing center at this level. It’s just that other teams find it incredibly easy to find the back of  _ their  _ net, and that’s not something that can be changed, even with the best offense in the world.

Ryan will be the first to admit that the losses suck, they really do. But there’s something absolutely electric about playing on NHL ice with Taylor and Jordan as her wingers, when they all just step into the moment and play absolutely sick hockey. She’s confident they’ll make it. She just needs a little more experience - they all do.

It’s after one of those losses, where she’s spent maybe too much time in the shower, and she’s wandering back into the locker room that she sees it. The rest of the team has long departed, which isn’t a surprise, and only Jordan and Taylor are left. It’s not unique on the surface, because everyone knows the two men are virtually attached at the hip. What does kind of take Ryan off-guard is just how close they’re sitting and the way their heads are bent together. Jordan has a hand against the bottom of Taylor’s back, and Ryan feels a bit like she’s walking in on something intimate. 

And then she knows she has when Jordan leans in and presses his mouth to Taylor’s cheek. Taylor turns into it, easy and almost reflexive, like this is something they do all the time. The ease with which Jordan responds, meets Taylor’s unasked question with a kiss, tells Ryan that this, for them, is normal. It makes her shiver, leaves heat pooling in her gut a little. 

Oh. 

Oh shit. 

Oh double shit. 

Ryan closes her eyes. She doesn’t move, too terrified that the slightest shift of her weight will knock them both out of their bubble and too busy with the realization that maybe what she feels for Jordan and Taylor isn’t simply friendship to worry about making her feet work. 

They’re together. It’s not a surprise that they are, of course. She’d had an inkling. What is a surprise is her own reaction to it, the way she wants to be a part of that so, so badly. 

Shit. 

When she finally pries her eyes open, Jordan’s moving away and Taylor’s head is dropping again, staring at his fingers woven together between his knees. Ryan forces herself to move then, to shift enough that they both look up at her. 

“Hey Nuge,” Jordan says just loud enough for Ryan to hear. His smile shakes around the edges and Ryan swallows around the lump in her throat. She wants to go over there, to curl up between them and wrap herself around Taylor until he looks at least a little less pathetic. “Want to come home with us?” 

There’s a huge part of her that wants to say yes more than anything, that wants to drown her own disappointment in Call of Duty, in MarioKart and KD, in Jordan and Taylor and all the warm nights she’s spent hanging out with them. It’s a little bit terrifying, how much she wants to do that, how after a month and a half of real NHL games the only thing she wants to do is just be with them. Her heart thumps hard and she finds herself shaking her head. 

No matter what she wants, her feelings are a little too raw and new to her for her to feel comfortable nosing in right now. “I think I’m just going to head home and pass out.” 

“We have a spare room,” Jordan offers easily and god, Ryan  _ wants _ . She wants to say yes, wants to step over to them and comb her hand through Jordan’s hair to soothe the frustration that’s still in his eyes. 

“We’ll go out for breakfast tomorrow, hey? I really think I just want my bed.”

It’s a lie, but either Jordan can’t see it or he’s too wrapped up in how defeated Taylor looks and the continual frustration of losing to look hard enough. Ryan’s really, really okay with that right now. In fact, she’s more than a little grateful when Jordan just nods. 

“We’ll text you.”

“Yeah,” she agrees and hates herself a little when she can’t help the way her eyes follow them both out of the locker room, Jordan’s hand pressed low against Taylor’s back. 

She sits in her stall for a minute, still in just a robe, hair dripping down the back of her neck as she tries to get her bearings, tries to reorient herself. If they’re together, and Ryan can’t look at everything she’s seen tonight, the way all of the little pieces feel like they’re knitting themselves together and come to any other conclusion, it doesn’t matter that her heart is still thumping hard. It doesn’t matter that she can picture it, the two of them, the three of them, can imagine how good it could be to be sandwiched between them. 

They’re good together, Ryan can see it. She can remember it. They deserve that. So, she breathes once, deep, like she’s about to take the most important shot of her life and folds all of those thoughts, all of those fantasies, into the back of her mind. 

They’re her friends, her best friends here in Edmonton. That’s more than enough. 

 

Ryan’s a girl, she has periods. She’s also an athlete, which means between moments when her body fat is just too low, or the stress is too high, there are times when she just doesn’t have it. Her theory, therefore, is when Aunt Flo does come around, boy does she come with a vengeance.

The first time it happens in the NHL is when she happens to be in the air, heading to Chicago. She stumbles from the bathroom, thanking her mother for teaching her to always carry around a little kit with spare underwear, a pad, a liner, and a tampon. The one thing she doesn’t have is Midol, but she asks one of the trainers for some ibuprofen and a couple of heat packs. She’ll take care of the other stuff once they settle in the hotel.

There’s a low-level ache in her lower back and pelvis that will soon grow to epic proportions. They play the Hawks tomorrow, which will thankfully give her time to get over the worst of the cramps and to let the medicine have a chance to kick in. Still, she’s not looking forward to tonight.

The ibuprofen wears off when they get to the hotel, and she knows she’s not going to make it to morning. She debates it for more than a few moments, probably longer than she really should given the stabbing pain in her abdomen, but eventually how crappy she feels overlays any embarrassment she may cause her team. Specifically, Taylor and Jordan. It’s all Ryan can do to drag herself over to their room and knock on the door.

Jordan answers, his eyes widening as he takes her in. She probably looks terrible, face pinched and a little grey. “Nuge! What the hell, you look awful!” He’s already reaching out and tugging her against him, one hand checking her temperature, the other arm strong and tight against her back.

“Nuge? What’s wrong with her?” Taylor demands from somewhere inside, popping out. His eyes widen, a mirror of Jordan’s when he catches sight of her. “Holy shit, are you sick?”

“I need you guys to come with me, there’s a Walgreens around the corner,” she croaks.

“Nuge, if you’re really sick then you need to go to the trainers,” Jordan begins because he is adorable and means well. At least, Ryan’s pretty sure that would be her thought process if she weren’t, well, dying. 

She can’t help but snort. “I’m not sick, Ebs. I’m just being a goddamn woman. I’m on my period.”

The two exchange wide-eyed looks. “Oh,” Taylor says finally, looking more than a little perturbed. “We don’t know anything about that.” He actually sounds a little ashamed and honestly, she thinks maybe the NHL seminars on female teammates should worry more about period symptoms than ‘touch equals sexual harassment’. 

Ryan tugs both of them out into the hallway. “Well, you’re about to get a crash course in what it’s like when it goes really, really wrong.”

The walk to the corner store is, quite frankly, awful. But Ryan just sucks in her breath and endures it because that’s just what women fucking  _ do. _

Taylor and Jordan are not so convinced. “Are you sure you don’t need the trainers?” Taylor asks when she grabs his hand and squeezes because the cramps are becoming so goddamn awful. “Please, Nuge-’

She does not need the trainers, really she doesn’t, just…seeing how concerned they are makes her feel less like she wants to tell them that this, for her, is normal. They probably wouldn’t take it very well. So she just points at the Midol. “Two of those.” Jordan grabs for them.

In the feminine products aisle, she has a much-needed laugh when Taylor says in a stage whisper, “I’ve never been in  _ this  _ aisle before.” But he’s obliging when she picks out two boxes of tampons. They don’t even question her when she picks out some chocolate (and oh, she would kill for some Kinder Bueno right now but she’ll take what she can get) and a container of Ben & Jerry’s.

They do, however, insist on staying with her in her room and Ryan goes along with it, changing out of her travel suit and into her comfiest sweats, slapping a heat pad where it hurts most.

The worst of it hits around 11:00, when the three of them are lying on her bed watching  _ House Hunters.  _ Ryan’s been curling into a tighter and tighter ball between them, but at this point, even that isn’t giving her relief. She whimpers as she rolls into Taylor and buries her face against his shoulder. 

“Nuge?” he whispers. “Nuge, what-?”

“Hurts,” she whispers, feeling the tears leak out the corners of her eyes. It almost feels like her body is trying to turn itself inside out.

“Nuge?” It’s Jordan now, and he sounds so, so frightened. “Nuge please, you’re scaring us. What can we do, can we call-”

She reaches out blindly, seizes Jordan’s hand. “Don’t go,” she mumbles, tugging at him until he’s curved around her, placing his hand low on her belly over the heating pad. His hand is warm too, and she links her fingers around his. She spares the last of her brain cells that aren’t flashing with ‘ _ pain _ ’ to wish that this were happening under less gut-wrenching circumstances. With her other hand, she pulls at Taylor’s shirt until he’s closer too, both of them curled around her. “Please don’t go. I just-I need-”

“Did I ever tell you about the time Hallsy got lost in the grocery store?” Jordan asks quietly, maybe a little desperately. “He was so overwhelmed because he couldn’t find his precious KD-”

“Fuck you, that is not how that went!” Taylor argues, reaching over to shove at him. “I was looking for-”

Ryan falls asleep to the low timbre of their voices, telling her story after story.

They haven’t moved when Ryan wakes the next morning, the pain lessened but still beyond uncomfortable. She shifts, because she needs to pee and change and she needs more Midol but she’s sandwiched so tightly between them, Jordan’s hand still splayed low on her stomach and Taylor wrapped around them both. 

She tries to breathe through it, both the pain and the way her heart clenches with the sudden knowledge of how much she wants this. But Taylor and Jordan have each other, they don’t need a third wheel. Beyond that, this isn’t definitive evidence they want her anyway. They’re helping her out in her moment of blinding pain. Neither of them had initiated any of the touching last night, not even the cuddling. That’s on her. 

They have each other, she repeats in her head, eyes shut tight. They don’t need her. 

Her shifting must wake Jordan because she feels his thumb trace a circle over her skin, tucking teasingly and briefly beneath her sweats. Under most other circumstances, Ryan thinks she’d give herself away, but she’s in too much pain for her body to react in any way that isn’t trying to deal with the pain, let alone tell Jordan that she wants this. 

“Hey.” Jordan’s voice is soft and low against the back of her neck. “How are you feeling?” 

Ryan feels pitiful enough to sigh, though she hates the way it turns into a whine at the end. “Not good.” 

Jordan’s hand rubs across her stomach, hot and wonderful against the heavy ache there. “What can I do?” 

Her first instinct is to send him for the Midol, maybe some water, though it wouldn’t be the first time she’s swallowed pills dry. She is, however, also reluctant to ask him to move when he’s pressed up against her back like he is. Selfish, maybe, but Ryan’s not really in the mood to care. 

“You need drugs?” 

She sighs and nods into Taylor’s chest, braces herself for the way the pain will intensify when he stops rubbing his fingers across her skin, the way she’ll feel the cool air of the hotel room against her back. Instead, Jordan kind of rocks them both into Taylor until he snuffles and blinks his eyes open. 

“Early.”

“Nuge needs drugs,” Jordan says and Taylor’s eyes fly open to meet hers. She tries to look apologetic, she really does but Taylor just grunts and hauls himself out of bed. 

“Bring water too,” Jordan instructs and Ryan feels her cheeks heat. Taylor hadn’t even whined about it, and she knows from first hand experience how much he hates waking up before the alarm. 

“You didn’t have to-”

“Nuge,” Jordan huffs against the back of her neck, tugging her back and adjusting her against his chest. “Yeah, I kind of did.”

Ryan’s valiantly shoving away the thought that he’d sounded a little resigned, a little like there isn’t much he wouldn’t do for her, when Taylor comes back. He settles next to her and waits patiently while Jordan maneuvers them both until she’s half-sitting up and cradled against him. She accepts the pills and the water and slumps back, thinking about how she really needs to shower soon because they need to get to practice.

“That was scary, Nuge,” Taylor says quietly, watching both of them with a look she cannot quite decipher, reaching out to settle one hand on her knee. “Does...does that happen every time?”

“Not every time, but often enough that it sucks.”

Jordan’s fingers clench reflexively before relaxing, still gloriously hot and low on her belly. “Do you need to-”

“No,” she says sharply. “This isn’t the first time I’ve played through this and it won’t be the last. Besides, I know my body. Last night was the worst of it. It’ll get better throughout the day.” If last night was a ten, she’s at an eight, and anticipates going down to a six by the actual game.

Taylor shifts forward on the bed and shuffles in as close as he can get. She’s surrounded again and it’s so, so easy to let Taylor guide her head back to his shoulder. He threads his hand through her hair and scratches gently at her scalp and she reminds herself that no matter what she’s feeling, they have a capital-T-Thing going on. She cannot make a pass at either one of them. Ryan’s no homewrecker and she isn’t about to change that now. Even so, she’ll steal moments like this and hope that both of them are okay with that.

 

Ryan loves kids. Adores them. She cannot wait for Christmas, when the team goes on its annual hospital visit, and in the meantime she pays special attention to the kids that come up to the glass during warmups.

But this? This is incredibly special. Media and PR came to her with a request from the Make-A-Wish Foundation and Ryan didn’t even have to read the entire thing before saying yes. She’ll do pretty much anything for kids, but for a girl with leukemia who loves hockey with all her heart and soul? Yeah, she’s a goner.

Part of this meeting is a complete surprise for the girl, who thinks she’s just getting a tour of the locker room before watching the game and meeting with Ryan afterwards. What she doesn’t know is that she gets to skate and play with Ryan for a little bit.

She idles anxiously on the ice, bouncing up and down because honestly, she can’t  _ wait.  _ At the sound of voices she spins and hangs back a little bit, waiting for the Oilers TV crew and the family to come into view.

There’s a delighted gasp, then, “You’re Ryan Nugent-Hopkins!”

Ryan can’t help it - her heart melts a little bit at the sight of the girl - she has to be no more than eight but she’s so tiny, so frail in her jersey on top of brightly patterned leggings. “Hey Laila, it’s nice to meet you,” she says, skating over and quickly getting down on the same level. “Do you want to skate with me, maybe shoot some pucks?”

Laila bounces up and down too, clapping her hands together. “Yes, yes, yes!”

Ryan helps Laila lace up her skates, grinning and laughing while she recites some of her stats - not just from this year, but from her time with the Red Deer Rebels. “Wow, you sure know a lot about me!” Ryan exclaims, feeling all warm inside because she’s actually a hero to this girl, the way players like Manon and Sid are to her.

“I watched the draft,” Laila tells her. “When I saw the Oilers picked you, I wanted to know  _ everything.  _ I’ve been waiting for them to get a girl, and now they have you!”

Ryan laughs, because this is cute and so, so empowering. Ryan had never looked at the NHL as anything other than a goal, a place to play the best hockey she could. This role model stuff hadn’t crossed her mind. “They do,” she agrees, looping the laces into the last knot. “Okay! You’re set. Ready for a few laps?” 

“Yes!” Laila exclaims. She’s a little wobbly on the ice, but Ryan catches her easily. “How did you feel when you were drafted?” Laila asks curiously, her eyes wide as she stares up at Ryan.

Ryan thinks back to the draft, how she’d known that she was going first but not really getting it until the very moment it happened. “I didn’t think it was real until they said my name. Then it was just a dream come true because the only thing I ever wanted was the NHL.”

“Who’s your favorite player here?”

“Awww, I can’t pick between Hallsy and Ebby!”

“You’re  _ my  _ favorite!”

Laila keeps peppering her with questions as they shift over to passing pucks back and forth, barely allowing Ryan to get her own questions in because she wants to know all about this girl, who’s fought against so much but still has so much sparkle and life in her. “What else do you like to do besides watching hockey, Laila?”

Her brow furrows a little bit in concentration as she slides the puck back to Ryan, slowly making their way up the ice towards the net. “I like to bake. Snickerdoodles are my favorite.”

“Yeah? I love snickerdoodles too, you’ll have to give me the recipe. Maybe I can teach Hallsy how to bake-” She lowers her voice to a stage whisper, knowing Oilers TV will pick it up anyway. “Since all he knows how to make is KD.”

Laila giggles. “But you’re hockey players, you can’t just eat KD!”

“That’s what Ebby and I tell him all the time. Okay, we’re here, shoot, shoot!” She throws her arms in the air when the puck whizzes into the net. “What a shot!” She’s careful when she picks Laila up and spins her around in a gentle circle.

They play an easy game of keepaway before Ryan notices her noticeably fading. “Hey now, why don’t you make like a hockey player and take a nap before the game?” she suggests, getting down on her knees once more. “That way you’re all fresh for tonight and can cheer us on, okay?” Laila’s mother nods gratefully at her from over her shoulder.

Laila considers the request solemnly. “Then I get to come see you after, right?”

“Definitely,” she promises. “I’ll even introduce you to Hallsy and Ebby and you can tell Hallsy to eat more than KD, how does that sound?”

She waves until Laila and her family are out of sight, then begins cleaning up the pucks because well, she’s still the rookie. But they’re going to win tonight, even if she has to drag her team through it kicking and screaming.

Turns out she doesn’t have to, because they absolutely cream Chicago, 9-2. Taylor gets a hat trick, and Ryan gets five - count ‘em  _ five _ \- assists. It’s definitely one hell of a night to be an Oilers fan. She can’t seem to stop hugging Taylor and Jordan, not that they seem to be doing any better.

“Nuge!” Taylor cheers, throwing his arms around her once the media clear away. “We’re going out tonight, right?”

She ponders if she has enough time to shower before Laila and her family show up - probably not, because the scrum was longer than usual considering the blowout. “Of course we are, but I have a guest-”

“Ryan!” Laila comes flying into the locker room, flinging herself into Ryan’s arms. “Ryan, Ryan, you got five assists tonight!”

“You were counting!” Ryan laughs, adjusting the Oilers toque that had gone askew in her leap. “What a night for you to come and watch, hey?”

“It was the best!” Laila says happily. Her eyes widen as they land on Taylor, who’s staring at both of them with a goofy expression on his face. “You’re Taylor Hall!” She wriggles until Ryan sets her down, and then both of them are kneeling on the floor so they’re at eye level.

He reaches out for a handshake, nodding solemnly. “I am. And you are?”

“I’m Laila. Ryan said that all you eat is KD, and you really shouldn’t do that,” she says reproachfully. There are more than a few choked-off laughs in the background and for Taylor’s sake, Ryan’s glad all the cameras have cleared out. “You’re a hockey player, you need more than KD to get big and strong!”

Jordan seems like he’s having a heart attack. Gags shoves a towel in his face. Taylor’s ears are fire engine red, but he gamely replies, “Well, that’s why I have a very good roommate and friends who make sure I don’t starve.” He sends Ryan a betrayed look and she just grins, shrugging.

“Still, you have to eat more!” Laila insists, fishing in her pockets and retrieving a folded up piece of paper. “I promised Ryan I would give her my Snickerdoodles recipe, and the two of you should make them together. But you can’t just eat Snickerdoodles either!”

Taylor reaches out for the recipe. “I love Snickerdoodles, thank you Laila,” he says sincerely, ignoring the hysterics going on around them. “Nuge and I will definitely make them, and I promise we’ll have a big bowl of salad, too.”

“Dude,” Jordan wheezes once Laila and her family have left, weighed down with oodles of signed Oilers gear and tons of photos. “I can’t believe you were told off about your eating habits by an eight year old.”

Taylor pouts. “Nuge, I had a hatty tonight and you threw me under the bus! Non-beauty.”

She rolls her eyes and heads for the showers. “She was genuinely concerned, Hallsy. Anyway, you’ll forgive me after a few dances, won’t you?”

It doesn’t even take that and Ryan knows it. Jordan does too, if the little affectionate looks he’s sending Taylor’s way at the bar that night are any explanation. The team’s more than a little rowdy because while they have faith in their abilities, wins like this against teams like the Hawks don’t come very often.

Taylor has absolutely no rhythm, but it doesn’t matter that much, not when his hands are large and steady on her hips and his body is warm against her back. There aren’t very many people who can make her feel small, but Taylor can in how he just seems to surround her. 

Honestly, it makes it difficult to call this “friendly” grinding. But then again, Ryan’s been having difficulty labeling any of her interactions with Taylor and Jordan as friendly.

Especially when Taylor leans down, nuzzling against the nape of her neck. “You smell so nice, Nuge,” he mumbles against her skin, sending little lightning bolts down her spine. Her back arches without her say-so and he just hums happily, fingers tightening on her hips. “Is that your perfume?”

“N-no, just my shampoo.” She keeps her own stuff in her shower stall, mostly because the stuff they stock for the guys is hell on her sensitive skin.

“S’nice.”

Ryan just laughs, tips her head back until it’s resting on his shoulder. “Okay, Hallsy.”

“You two.” Jordan is standing in front of them, hands on his hips and the look in his eyes deeply fond. Ryan can’t help the surge of guilt because, well, she is rather shamelessly grinding on his boyfriend, even though he insisted that he didn’t really want to dance.

She tries to extricate herself from Taylor’s grip, but he only clings tighter and makes a baleful noise in her ear.

“Easy, Hallsy,” he chuckles, moving in closer. “I’m not taking your partner away, I’m just joining you.”

Now the noise Taylor makes is considerably happier and he reaches out, tugging Jordan forward until Ryan is firmly sandwiched between them.

“This okay, Nuge?” Jordan asks, dropping one hand to her hip.

She doesn’t know where to look. She doesn’t know where to put her hands. It’s also difficult to decide if this is worse than waking up between them because while sharing a bed can be conceivably platonic, this toes the line. And the thing is, Ryan wants to cross that line so, so badly, even though she knows she can’t.

The boys don’t help, either. Not when Jordan knows exactly what to do, slotting one solid thigh between hers and guiding her hips and Taylor’s by extension. Her hands scrabble for a hold, one on Jordan’s shirt, the other blindly reaching back for Taylor’s thigh. It catches over Jordan’s, and then Taylor’s hand covers them both, squeezing tightly. It’s slow, it’s intense, it’s exactly what she needs.

It’s everything she can’t have.

So she panics and shoves herself out from between them. “Whoa, I think those shots went to my head! I’m just...gonna go to the bathroom!”

Except she doesn’t. She can’t. She has to get out of there before she does something incredibly stupid, like tell them how she feels. Because of god, does she  _ feel. _

Ryan stumbles out of the bar, her chest tight, reaching for her phone as she hurries down the street. It’s freezing, it really is, but she is not going to risk stopping, not when she can still see the shock on Jordan’s face when she’d shoved him back and the confusion on Taylor’s when she’d stuttered out her awkward excuse. She debates calling calm and level-headed Sid for almost a split second before dismissing it because it sounds ridiculous, even in her own head. So it’s Carey’s number she presses, darting quickly down the street as she mentally pleads with the Habs goalie to just pick up the damn phone.

“Why the hell are you calling me at two am?”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry,” Ryan says immediately, “I just…did you see the game?”

Carey groans. “I sleep like a normal human on the east coast and watch the highlights when I wake up. Especially when I have practice in the morning.”

“We won. Well, we more than won. We slaughtered the Hawks. 9-2.”

“Why is this even relevant?”

Ryan scrambles because she can tell Carey wants to hang up and go back to sleep. She just… really doesn’t know how to broach the subject either. She’s kind of freaking out. “Because I got five assists. Five assists and Hallsy got three goals-”

“So you’re celebrating,” Carey prompts, rushing her along. 

“I think I’m in love with them.”

There’s a beat, then two, and Carey sounds much more awake when she says, quite simply, “Ah.” 

“That’s it?” And yeah, Ryan’s around the corner and far enough away that she can risk the time it takes to hail a cab. “I’m in love with not one, but two of my teammates, who are gay for each other - which is awesome, don’t get me wrong - and really, really happy together and all you have to say is ‘ah’?”

“You’re the one who called me,” Carey points out. “If you wanted someone to squeal with, you probably should have made a different choice. And Segs is a goddamn night owl.”

“I am not calling Tyler Seguin to tell her I want to sleep with two of my teammates.” There is no way Ryan will ever be prepared for that amount of squealing or chirping. Yeah, she admires Tyler for the uninhibited way she goes about playing, and more, in Boston, but Ryan is not going down this road with her. This is serious. “Especially since they’re busy sleeping with each other. Exclusively, I’m pretty sure. Like, the in love exclusively sleeping together. Which means they’re not even  _ thinking _ about sleeping with me.”

“Who says they aren’t?” Carey asks. “Isn’t bisexuality a thing now?” 

“I’m pretty sure there’s a difference between bisexuality and a threesome,” Ryan points out philosophically, breathing out a sigh of relief when a cab pulls up not three seconds later. She loves this city, but damn it is  _ cold _ . 

Carey makes a dismissive noise. “Not much, really.”

“Oh, and you’re the expert?” It maybe sounds a little more bitter than Ryan was hoping. She covers the mouthpiece of her phone as she rattles off her address to the cabbie. 

“On polyamory, God no. In my experience, one’s enough.” 

Ryan pouts, grateful that Carey can’t see because she does not need the shit from this. She shouldn’t be this upset. Taylor and Jordan had each other long before they had her and she’s always been a fan of ‘why mess with a good thing’. 

“Hey.” Carey’s voice is too soft, too understanding. Ryan tips her head back to keep the tears at bay. It’s a stupid thing to cry over anyway when she is and continues to be genuinely happy for both Taylor and Jordan. “Have you talked to them at all?”

Ryan snorts. “Of course not. I’m not stupid enough to mess this up, Carey.” Mess up their friendship, what Taylor and Jordan have, the Oilers, whatever it is, she is really, really not stupid enough to take that chance. She’s the rookie. She’s the last one here, and she likes it too much to risk messing it up. “I can’t get traded. I can’t-”

Do that to the Oilers, to the women in the league, to her fans. She won’t be that girl. 

“Okay,” Carey says and Ryan grits her teeth against the painfully placating tone in the goalie’s voice. “I mean, I think you’re making a huge assumption here, but.”

Ryan swallows thickly in the back of the cab, watching Edmonton fly by for a few beats. “They’re my best friends, Carey.” She doesn’t know how else to explain it. If she lost them, if she lost the team… Ryan’s not sure what she’d do. She loves Edmonton, she loves the Oilers too much to risk it. 

“All the more reason for you to be honest, Ryan. What if they feel the same way?”

“The consequences are worse if they don’t,” she shoots back.

“Okay, fine,” Carey says on an exasperated breath. “Clearly you don’t want me to talk you out of this. What do you want to do then?”

Ryan’s quiet for a long time. When she finally does reply, her voice is small. “I don’t want to be in love with them.”

“Oh sweetie.” The softness is back in Carey’s voice and almost has her bawling then and there. The only thing that stops her is the taxi pulling to a stop in front of Gags’ house. “You’re the only one who has control over that.”

Logically, Ryan knows that. She’s just not sure she has the strength to do it, just like she’s sure she doesn’t have the strength to keep playing this game. She doesn’t even know where to start.

“Carey-”

“Go home,” Carey says quietly, decisive in all the ways Ryan’s struggling to be right now. “Get some sleep. Go to practice in the morning. Be the Ryan that the Oilers wanted first overall, okay? Start there.”

Ryan takes a deep breath. That, she thinks, she can do. 

 

Three minutes. Three minutes are all it takes for one damn hit to take her out of the game, put her in an ambulance, and for the medical staff to tell her that she can’t play for at least a few weeks. It’ll be even longer if she gets surgery. “The good news is that it can’t get worse, should you choose to wait for surgery,” the doctors tell her. “You will experience pain but it will be...manageable.”

“You’re sure I can’t make it worse?” She not stupid enough to risk injuring herself further or even seriously, even if it does mean playing.

“A few weeks’ rehab will be enough, if that’s what you want.”

She takes a moment to think about it, wonders briefly what Sid would do. Then Ryan realizes the absolute absurdity of that thought because it’s  _ Sid.  _ Of course she would choose hockey. “Then I’ll take those few weeks. We’ll do surgery once the season’s finished.”

Depressed and morose, she reaches for her phone and tells the Girl Brigade. Her phone is already full of texts - family, friends, but the only people she feels like facing are the girls. The team’s going to find out soon enough, and Taylor and Jordan are going to absolutely flip their shit. She’d rather go to the girls, honestly.

Dani’s the first to respond.  _ We play you in three days, and have a break afterwards. Do you want me to stay for an extra day? Just for company, I promise. _

Ryan says yes without even thinking. She has a feeling Dani’s seemingly endless supply of calm will come in handy.  _ Don’t bother to get a hotel. Gags has another room. _

_ Sounds like a plan. _

They get back to the hotel way before the team, and Ryan knows the trainers have already let coach and by extension, the team, know. Still, it’s no surprise when the knock comes at her door. Even though she wants to mope, she can’t say no to those two.

As the door swings open, Taylor and Jordan’s expressions melt from abject terror to almost heart-wrenching belief. “ _ Ryan _ ,” Taylor breathes out, his voice ragged. He steps forward, hands reaching automatically towards her, before he stops short. 

Ryan musters up as much of a smile as she can, and judging by the looks on their faces, she falls a little short. “Gently,” she says, stepping back into the room.

Two pairs of arms come around her and she buries her head in Jordan’s shoulder, shaking with all the frustration and futility coursing through her veins. She hates injuries, hates that she has to take out any time from playing. Worse still is the thought that Jordan and Taylor will be on the ice without her. Someone else will be centering their line, taking  _ her  _ place and it makes her want to scream.

“Try not to scare us again like that, huh?” Jordan says into her hair, one of his hands stroking up and down her back. “Hallsy almost lost his mind when we got back into the locker room and they said you’d gone to the hospital.” His voice is forced in its lightness but she doesn’t call him out on it. Hell, she’d probably react the same way.

Taylor shudders and doesn’t even bother to refute the statement. “What do you need, Nuge?” he asks. “Ice cream? Netflix? Whatever you want.”

Ryan knows exactly what she wants and she shouldn’t ask, no matter what Taylor says. Because she’s thinking of the last time they were in Chicago, of Jordan’s hand low on her belly, of Taylor curled around them as best as he could manage it. She wants that again more than anything, but she can’t keep pretending like she’s a part of this when she really isn’t. “Guys, you don’t have to-”

Jordan slides one hand up into her hair, cupping the base of her skull. “Nuge.”

He sounds so patient, so understanding that all her resistance crumbles away. “Stay?”

They both relax. “Okay,” Jordan murmurs, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Stay with her, Hallsy. I’ll go get some of our stuff.”

She falls asleep watching  _ House Hunters International _ , tucked securely between them.

 

Ryan watches from the box during the home game against the Canucks, wincing every time. She knows that self-flagellation is a bad idea but she can’t help it - she flinches every time there’s a missed pass, clenches her hands when she sees that Taylor and Jordan aren’t using as much of the space as they should, shouts when the puck turns over, thinking that maybe, just maybe she could have prevented it.

It’s dumb thinking. It’s stupid thinking, but it’s just where her mind is going, unfortunately.

She tries not to look like she’s sulking outside the visitor’s locker room, but she probably is. Dani strides out in an impeccably tailored suit, her hair in an amazing undercut that Ryan will never, ever be able to pull off, pulling her suitcase behind her. She stops, stares at Ryan, and scowls. “Stop.”

Ryan’s head shoots up. “What?”

“Stop blaming yourself for being injured.” Dani gestures and geez, even her manicure is perfect. “It’s written all over your face. Come on then. Clearly you need food. And alcohol.”

Which is how Gags ends up driving them to the supermarket, holding back a laugh as Dani steams through with terrifying efficiency, loading up the cart with all kinds of food, snacks, and of course, alcohol. She picks nice wine and very good vodka and Ryan doesn’t say a word even though she’s more of a beer girl. Better to let her do her thing and not get run over.

Back at the house, Dani strips off her jacket, rolls up her sleeves, and proceeds to whip up a meal - “Nothing fancy, just good, homey Swedish food,” she tells Ryan, while directing Gags to peel the potatoes. Ryan drags off Dani’s suitcase and makes sure to take pictures of the Swedish whirlwind in her kitchen to send to the Girl Brigade and to Taylor and Jordan.

Sid’s text simply says,  _ Ah, you’ve caught Dani in Mother Mode. _

_ Pot, kettle,  _ Marcia replies almost instantly.

_ Dani, you still haven’t given me the recipe for those potatoes,  _ Carey adds, followed by a frowny face.

Meanwhile, Jordan sends her a picture of him and Taylor both frowning at the camera.  _ we r not invited??? _

_ no _ , she writes back, not feeling the least bit guilty. They’re also clearly at a restaurant and she’s not about to crash a date night.  _ girl time. _

_ gags is there! _

_ gags doesn’t count, he’s my roommate. _

_ NUUUUUUUUUUUUGE. _

Gags pokes his head out of the kitchen. “Nuge, help me! Dani says I’m not doing the potatoes right!”

“Who cuts potatoes before peeling them?”

“I didn’t know we needed to peel them!”

Ryan steps in and shoos him off to set the table. “Okay, okay, let me at them.” Dani has procured an apron Ryan didn’t even know Gags owned, and still somehow looks like the cover of a magazine. Ryan’s not convinced she’s actually human at this point.

But over dinner Dani tells story after story, stories that keep Ryan and Gags in stitches as they stuff their faces with poached salmon and creamy potatoes, both liberally seasoned with dill and absolutely delicious. “I don’t get to cook that often,” she confesses somewhat ruefully. “Marinette usually doesn’t let me.”

“Feel free to cook anytime you’re here,” Gags says, and waves both women off to the living room so that he can take care of cleanup. “Take your girl time.”

Ryan watches as Dani curls onto the couch and marvels at the difference in her personality off the ice. She can’t imagine why she’s been so intimidated by the older woman (well, besides the fact that she’s one of the best forwards in the league and plays absolutely insane hockey with her brother). Dani’s  _ fun.  _ She has the driest sense of humor, and her wry commentary on the movie has her doing multiple almost-spit-takes.

Somewhere around a whole bottle of wine, Ryan asks, “Do you think I could get a haircut like yours?”

Dani shrugs. “You absolutely could. It’s all about the attitude.”

“I think I’d freak out the moment they came towards me with a razor.”

She laughs and reaches over to refill Ryan’s glass. She still looks completely put together, not a crease on her suit. Ryan is incredibly envious. “So maybe you should wait a while. There may come a time when you just decide, screw it. Maybe for playoffs.”

“ _ If  _ we make playoffs.”

“There’s always the possibility of playoffs,” is the arch reply. “Now drink.”

Well, there’s nothing else to do, so she does.

“You’re so cool,” Ryan tells her, arm slung around her shoulders, as they head up the stairs somewhere around three in the morning. “You’re not scary at all.”

“You thought I was scary?” she snorts, somehow steering Ryan into the correct room.

“Yeah, Segs warned me. She’s also scared of Sid and Marcia.”

“Well, Marcia is legitimately frightening,” Dani admits, helping Ryan with her clothes so that nothing jars her shoulder, before propelling her towards the bathroom so that she can brush her teeth and wash her face. “Okay rookie, time for bed. Drink all that water I left for you, all right? Just so that you don’t have an aching head in the morning.”

Ryan nods obligingly, sliding between the sheets and reaching for a bottle. “Thanks for being here, Dani.”

She grins and ruffles her hair. “No problem. Now, sleep.”

_ dani’s the beeeeeeeeeeest,  _ she texts Taylor and Jordan.  _ but don’t worry, im not going to vancouver i just love herrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr and she has the best hairrrrrrrrrrrr _

When she wakes up the next morning, her phone is full of protests and chirping. Luckily, Dani’s there with homemade Swedish cinnamon rolls, thus cementing her place as Ryan’s favorite. There’s a part of Ryan that doesn’t want Dani to leave, but Dani disappears while she and Gags clean up the kitchen, returning with her suitcase in tow. 

Ryan feels it all settling over her again, the pressure, the uselessness. Gags has practice in a couple of hours, and Ryan… Ryan has a date with the trainers for physio and zero time on the ice. Still, Ryan walks Dani to the door. 

They wait in companionable silence for Dani’s cab, then the older woman turns back to Ryan, her face stern. “You have years yet,” Dani says. “One injury will not ruin your career. Not if you don’t let it.”

Ryan swallows thickly. Dani looks so fierce, so terrifyingly determined. 

Dani cups Ryan’s face gently, presses a kiss to one cheek, then the other. “Physio. Surgery if you need it. Your team will survive without you.” 

“Yeah.”

Dani laughs. “And we are here for you. All of us. No questions asked.” 

Ryan’s smile wavers just a little, but she still hugs Dani goodbye. “Thank you.” 

Dani presses one last kiss to Ryan’s head, a mother bear soothing her cub, and they share a laugh that’s a little looser. “You’ll come back, kid. Fiercer than ever.” 

Ryan breathes in and out as Dani heads down the walk and waves before climbing into the cab. Dani’s right, Ryan will come back. It’s only rehab. But the question isn’t ‘will she come back’ it’s ‘what will she come back to’. Ryan will be so disappointed herself if it isn’t a run at the playoffs. 

 

This can’t be good, she thinks when Horcs grabs her from the trainers’ office and frog-marches her down the hallway. “Horcs, what-”

“Just shush, Nuge, you need to hear this first.” His face is completely closed off, no indication whatsoever about what he’s thinking.

Taylor and Jordan are sitting in their stalls, looking a little panicked and bewildered. “Guys, what’s going on?” she asks.

Horcs pulls her to a stop in front of them. “Go on, boys, tell Nuge exactly what you told me.”

Jordan’s shoulders slump. “It’s just...it’s not that time of the month for you, even though we know the schedule. And you didn’t seem worried at all about it, so Taylor and I went to talk to Horcs about it because you weren’t talking to us.”

“But you know we’d support you, Nuge,” Taylor bursts out, meeting her eyes and why does he look almost hurt? “Because you’re ours and...yeah.”

Ryan has absolutely no idea what they’re talking about, never mind the fact that they just called her theirs. There has to be something she’s missing here. “Yeah, I’m not on my period. So?”

“Well, why else do girls not have periods?” Taylor asks, looking more and more upset. “You’re pregnant!”

The penny drops. Ryan stares at them, then back at Horcs, who is looking at her with a single raised eyebrow. Oh no. This cannot be happening. “You think I’m-” The first words come out a little too loud. Taylor and Jordan wince, and Horcs’ hand tightens on her shoulder. Right. Probably not the best thing to be shouting here. “You guys think I’m  _ pregnant?!?!? _ ”

“They do,” Horcs clarifies. “I don’t.”

“Fucking hell,” she sighs, rubbing her forehead. “There are other reasons women don’t have periods, guys. Low body fat and stress are two of them, and that’s probably it for me, okay? I don’t get periods all the time. I’m a professional hockey player, it’s a lot of stress on the body. A lot of us are not regular.”

Both of them slump with relief. “Really?” Jordan asks and honestly, with all the research they have been doing on periods since the last really nasty one in Chicago, one would think they’ve come across that little tidbit.

“Yes,” she says pointedly, then reaches over and smacks them both on the head. “And just who the hell would be the baby daddy, huh? I’m always with you guys, who the fuck would I be hooking up with?”

She expects some murmured apologies, maybe some sheepishness, but what she gets are some high-quality dark looks that almost send her stumbling into Horcs because she knows,  _ knows _ , that they have no reason to be jealous of anyone she goes out with. It’s Taylor’s eyes that flick down to her stomach and Ryan bites on her cheek to keep her jaw from dropping open. 

What the actual fuck?

Then Jordan blinks and the look is gone, replaced by the Jordan she’s familiar with, a little quiet, a little reserved. Taylor still won’t look at her and she can’t stop herself from watching the way his throat flexes as he swallows. 

“Sorry, Nuge,” Jordan says and elbows Taylor harshly in the ribs. 

Taylor mumbles something she can’t catch, but then he looks up at her. There’s possession in his gaze, she can damn well see it and she isn’t sure she wants to inspect it too closely, let alone think about what it means.

“ _ Hallsy _ .” 

God, Ryan is so thankful for Horcs right now. 

“Sorry, Nuge.” But his eyes haven’t left her abdomen. They need to. Desperately, or Ryan’s going to get  _ ideas _ . Ideas she can’t have. Ideas she shouldn’t. 

“Apology accepted,” she says, lifting her chin in the air just a little. A second later, she deflates and closes the short distance between them to ruffle both Jordan and Taylor’s hair. “Shit, next time just ask me, you idiots.”

Taylor looks so earnest as he flails a little until he catches her hand. “We didn’t want you to think we thought you were fat. Girls don’t like that.” 

She tries not to laugh. She really, truly tries, but Horc snorts behind her and Ryan’s gone. It feels good to laugh and she doesn’t realize she’s cupped Taylor’s cheek in her hand until she’s looking down at him fondly. “You think this sport would let me get fat? Do you know how hard it is to just keep any weight on?” 

Taylor frowns. 

“Exactly,” Ryan says, her voice softening without her direct permission. “So next time,  _ ask _ . It’s you and it’s Ebs. What’s the worst I’m going to say?”

Which, now that the words are out there, are really, really close to an admission she cannot make. There’s no way they’re willing or ready to hear that she’d do just about anything for them, that staying mad at them is not easy, not by a long shot. She forces herself to drop her hand, to take a step back, and clears her throat. 

“So, now that we’ve established I’m not pregnant, we can all go back to our regularly scheduled programs, right?” 

Both Jordan and Taylor nod seriously and Horcs offers her a shrug of acknowledgement. Ryan nods. She needs to leave, to separate herself. She doesn’t like how close to some things are to the surface. 

Namely, her understandably unrequited feelings. 

She turns on her heel and heads out of the locker room and down the hall. It isn’t until she slips around a corner that she leans back against the cinderblock, thumps her head gently against it and sighs. They’re not jealous. It can’t be jealousy. And she’s definitely imagining the possessiveness she’d read on their faces because they don’t want her. Not like that. Maybe a surrogate? But it sounds insane even in her head, even if they’re together ten years down the line and it’s becomes more of a thing they could actually do. They don’t want her. They have each other, and everyone knows three’s a crowd.  

She looks down at her stomach, flat and toned and allows herself a half a moment’s thought to the future, a split second of what it would be like to have Taylor and Jordan fawning over her before she pinches herself, hard, and breathes in, then out. 

It’s how Jordan finds her. 

“Nuge?”

“I’m good.” Except when she opens her eyes Jordan’s face is full of all those things she’s been working so hard to ignore. She swallows and closes her eyes again. “Really.”

Jordan’s sound is a little sympathetic. “Bad day with the trainers? I forgot to ask.”

In the chaos of wondering whether or not she was pregnant. God. It’s going to take her a while to get over that. And to stop teasing them about it. She smirks a little at him and has the pleasure of seeing his ears turn red at the tips. “No more than usual.”

He slings an arm over her shoulder. “Come on. I’m cooking tonight.”

“I can take care of myself, you know.” But she makes no move to come out from beneath his arm. “And it’s not like Gags is a terrible housemate.” Far from it, actually. She’s pretty sure he also knows exactly how she feels about Taylor and Jordan, not that he’s said a blessed word about it. She’s pretty sure she’d die of embarrassment if he did.

“Yeah,” Jordan says, then turns his head and winks at her. “But you know. I’m just a good Saskatchewan boy trying to be polite.”

Ryan laughs out loud and digs her elbow into his side. “God, Ebby really?” It’s not that she doesn’t believe him, but...she’s seen enough of what happens when he turns that switch off and it’s very compelling.

Not that she’s thinking about that at all. Nope. That goes to the same place where she puts thoughts of Taylor’s mouth. Or both of their hands.

God, she doesn’t know how much longer she can keep doing this, this close proximity, the caring, the looks on their faces sometimes that make her imagine what it would be like to have them both, for both of them to have her. It’s making her crazy, making her itch to do all of the things she wants and screw the consequences. 

She wants everything with them. 

“Nuge?” 

She hadn’t even realized her eyes had closed, but they fly open again at the worry in Jordan’s voice, and the hand he wraps gently around her bicep. “It’s fine, Ebs, I-”

“We’ll take you home,” he murmurs and squeezes her arm when she opens her mouth to protest. “ _ Ryan _ .” 

Shit. Ryan lets her head drop, aware she’s the one who dug herself this hole. If she tries to argue with him, she’s going to make it worse, she’s smart enough to know that. She’s also smart enough to know that if they lean on her long enough, she will tell them everything she’s sworn to keep to herself. “Okay,” she says, giving in. “Okay.”

“Now.” 

She waves him off, ostensibly to get Taylor and their things. She lets her head fall back against the brick again and sighs. She’s never been the type to wish for the end of the season, but between the ache in her shoulder and these damn feeling clogging her chest she lets herself wish, just for a moment, that said end of season would come just a little bit faster. Just for some space, for some time, so she can pack these feelings away safely without the two of them constantly in her face. 

“Ready?” 

She opens her eyes to find both of them there at the end of the hall, Taylor lugging her stuff as well. “Yeah, I can-”

“I’ve got it.” 

She could argue and she’d win, she knows that, but Taylor’s face is mulish and she cannot deal with his pout on top of everything else. “Okay.”

He offers her a smile that shakes around the edges and Ryan huffs, stepping up and into him. She can give him a hug without it shattering her fragile calm. She’s not that much of a useless mess. 

The press of his lips against her temple shakes that resolve just a little. “M’really sorry, Nuge.” 

“It happens,” she murmurs back. “Now you know.” 

He shivers, but it’s dramatic. Still, it serves its purpose in making her smile. He mirrors it. “That’s better.” 

She can feel herself blushing as she steps away, but forces herself to give them a tired smile instead. It doesn’t take much pretending, really. “Home?”

They all but fall over themselves and each other to get her to the car and Taylor even gets out to help her with her things when they pull up in front of Gags’ place. Unnecessary, but Ryan’s feeling a little scrambled and it’s obvious the guys are trying to make something up to her. 

“Hey.” Taylor catches her hand once they’re inside and he’s dropped her bags. He squeezes her fingers and reels her back towards him a little. He just watches her for a minute, indecision on his face. “You’ll get better.”

She lets herself lean forward, bang her head on his chest once, twice. “My rookie season.” 

He cups the back of her skull and Ryan feels her cheeks heat. “It’s only the beginning for you, hey? You and me and Ebs. We’ve got time.” 

“Do we, though?” she asks and lets her head tip back into his palm. “Three first round picks and we can’t even make the playoffs?” 

“That’s not on you. Not just on you.” He says it like it’s something he’s had to tell himself year in and year out. Her heart aches, this time not merely because she wants so, so badly to lean up and kiss him. 

For a split second, when he bends his head, Ryan thinks that’s exactly what he’s going to do and feels her breath hitch. Instead, he kisses her so, so softly on her cheek. “Just get better, okay? That’s what matters.”

She knows her smile isn’t great when he steps back. “When did you get so smart?” 

“I have my moments,” he says, laughing a little. “Get some ice. Get some rest.”

And while she does that, Ryan thinks, watching him go until she can’t any longer, she’ll also try and get some perspective.

 

Given the amount of time Ryan spends with both Jordan and Taylor and the fact that the two guys share an apartment, waking up in a bed that smells familiar but isn’t hers isn’t exactly something to write home about. It takes her a moment before she identifies it as Taylor’s, before she remembers passing out on the couch while Jordan and Taylor battled it out in one of the most epic Call of Duty battles to date. She huffs and rolls her eyes, makes a mental note to talk to Taylor about carrying her to bed (especially his bed and not the spare room, honestly). She’s not small and she’s got enough muscle that it can’t be easy. He’s going to throw his back out one of these days. 

She tosses the blankets off and runs a hand through her hair once before shoving it up in a knot at the back of her skull. Taylor will whine about being woken so early, but Ryan’s pretty sure she can convince Jordan to make waffles. Taylor never whines over waffles. 

Jordan’s door is pulled when she gets there. It’s by far not the first time she’ll catch them cuddling, not the first time she’s kind of flopped onto the bed while they do so either. What stops her dead right before she pushes open the door is the little moan she hears. Her cheeks heat immediately, though she’s legitimately not sure if it’s embarrassment or arousal. Her eyes flutter closed. It’s not the first time she’s thought of the two of them like this either, but as she clenches her hand on the doorframe, she knows it’s the first time she’s actually experienced it. 

“Shh,” Jordan murmurs, because Ryan is intimately acquainted with how Jordan sounds first thing in the morning. “Nuge is right next door. We both know how thin these walls are.”

Taylor’s next sound really isn’t quieter and Ryan feels her breath catch. Her stomach is rolling with a mix of horror that her feet will not move and the yearning to stay. She’ll never get another experience like this and while it is so, so wrong for her to stay and listen because it is not going to do anything to help her own feelings for her linemates, Ryan feels frozen in place. 

Jordan laughs low, almost more of a rumble of amusement. “Is that what you want, Hallsy?”

There’s a moment where Ryan really does hold her breath before she hears Taylor say, “You’re the one who knows what she feels like.”

Which is wrong. False. Whatever. Both Jordan and Taylor touch her on the regular. What the hell?

“You want me to tell you again? How warm her skin is, how soft?” Jordan asks. Ryan would never have pegged him as a talker, especially here, but she knows she’s trembling with it, on edge and waiting for what’s coming next. 

“Fuck, Ebby.”

There’s a humming noise before Jordan says, “You remember where my hand was? How close I could have been? Right there on her stomach.”

It takes her a moment to figure out what Jordan’s talking about, her mind too caught up on the way she has to bite her lip to keep her own sound from echoing the moan Taylor releases. There’s only one time Ryan can think of where Jordan’s hand was anywhere near her lower stomach and it sends a shiver down her spine to think that even though she’d been in pain, Jordan had been cataloguing how it felt to have her bare skin under his palm. She shivers as she realizes that they do this. This is a thing they do, talk about her while they’re obviously… well. Ryan would say making out but there are definitely no wet sounds of kissing going on here. It’s a thrill as much as it is entirely surreal. 

They want her. 

Ryan backs away. How, she’s not totally sure. Everything around her is a little foggy, dulled by the realization that maybe she’s not the only one who has been holding back. 

She’d always thought of herself as a homewrecker in this situation, not as an add-on.

She stumbles into the bathroom and flicks the light on, takes in the flush on her cheeks and the deer-in-the-headlights expression in her eyes. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. She can’t catch her breath, not really and she scrambles for the cold water tap at the sink. It takes four splashes before she can get a hold of herself and tip-toe into the living room where her phone is on the table, exactly where she remembers leaving it last. 

_ They want me _ , she types into the group chat, her hands still shaking. She’s going to get hell for this, a couple of patronizing messages from Dani and Marcia, chirping from Tyler and maybe a bit of a scolding one from Sid who hates when they use the group chat for these kinds of things, but she’s kind of at a loss. 

_ Of course they do. I’ve been trying to tell you for months _ , Carey writes back first.

Ryan kind of hyperventilates for a moment before she types,  _ What do I do? _

_ Uh, talk to them, Nuge. This isn’t rocket science.  _

Ryan flops her head back to the couch because yeah, Carey’s right, but it’s not that easy. It’s so far from that easy. 

She’s so incredibly quiet as she gathers her necessities and, for the first time in the history of their friendship, sneaks out of their apartment. They’re going to be so mad at her, Ryan knows that, but she also knows that she can’t handle them right now. She can barely process what she’d seen, what she’d heard, and that’s all separate from her absent embarrassment of catching them like that in the first place. 

Gags doesn’t even ask when she walks through the door, just raises an eyebrow that she waves off. She tries to treat it like every other morning, eating breakfast, going to practice…well, almost going to practice. The trainers catch her before she’s geared up and pull her into their office, promptly handing over a plane ticket. 

“Cleveland?” 

“It’s going to take a miracle to get us in the playoffs,” the trainer tells her gently. “Go to Cleveland. Get your shoulder looked at. Have surgery. Make next year our year.” 

There’s a part of her that looks down at the ticket in abject fear. She does not want to have surgery. She really doesn’t, but she also knows the pain is getting worse, her hockey isn’t getting better, and something has to give. More than that, she can’t help the way she looks at this as her ticket to a little bit of space, a little bit of freedom. 

If there’s one thing she needs time for that isn’t hockey related, it’s processing what she witnessed this morning.  

“We’ll have one of the trainers drive home with you, then take you to the airport,” he says. “You’ll be back to full strength for next season.”

The ticket they’ve chosen doesn’t give her a lot of time, just enough to go home and pack. She shouldn’t be grateful, but she is. She calls her parents because she knows one of them will want to be there when she’s finished, packs up, and leaves a note for Gags. It’s only once she’s at the airport that she leaves a voicemail for Horcs, and various other text messages for the other guys.

When it comes to Taylor and Jordan though, she’s drawing a blank. It’s cowardly to leave like this and part of her wonders if they have any inkling why she fled their place so early. Taylor might not suspect, but Jordan might.

In the end, she leaves a voicemail, too. “Hey guys. The trainers caught me before practice and put me on the plane. The good news is that I’ll be that much closer to getting better.” She swallows and traces a finger down the armrest. “The bad news is that I don’t get to see you guys off for Worlds. But uh, you guys better keep in touch and I’ll see you in Vegas, okay? After all, you promised to be my dates.” Her voice hitches, almost embarrassingly so, and she hangs up hastily and slumps back in her seat with a groan.

Why does everything have to be so hard?

Her phone chimes cheerfully and she reaches for it with a frown, wondering if the trainers have already told the team.

Instead, it’s a text from Tyler.  _ saw ur message about the boys. come down to vegas early for the awards, _ the message says.  _ I have a plan. _

It’s a terrible idea and Ryan knows it. A very bad, horrible, terrible plan. So bad that her hands shake as she types back,  _ I’ll send you my flight details when I get them _ . 

Tyler’s only response is,  _ sweet _ .

 

The surgery is not terrible. The rehab is a side-order of hell. Physio routinely knocks her for a loop and she spends more afternoons napping than she does doing anything. She’s kind of going crazy in Edmonton with everyone gone, but at least she has her mom to keep Gags’ house from turning into some sort of sty. Dani even stops in for a day or two on her way to Sweden for the summer and Ryan meets Marinette, who is drop-dead gorgeous and an angel to boot. It’s no wonder that Dani’s so well-adjusted: she has an amazing wife and gets to play absolutely ridiculous hockey with her twin brother.

Ryan’s mom laughs when she voices that opinion. “Dani’s also older than all of you, dear. She’s had time to grow. Don’t worry, you’ll have that soon, but you should still enjoy being young.”

It seems like, injured or no, she also has her own duties. There are endorsements to do, charity functions and camps to attend. She’s a little honoured when Sid invites her out to Cole Harbour and the camp she runs there as a break from the monotony of recovery. 

It also keeps her mind off Taylor and Jordan. Communication’s been sporadic and she can tell they’re still a little hurt by her abrupt departure. But they need the breathing room.  _ She _ needs the breathing room to make sure that she doesn’t hurt anyone by just jumping in. There are still times when she thinks she hallucinated the whole thing.

The text from Jordan comes just days before she’s due to fly out and meet Tyler.  _ hallsy wants to buy you a corsage. I told him no, because the nhl awards are not prom _

Ryan’s heart thumps hard, even as she grins.  _ I don’t mind. So long as I have my escorts. _

_ of course you do. _

Well. It looks like she still has two dates. 

Her breath shudders out of her lungs a little. The weeks of space haven’t wholly helped her come to terms with the idea that she’s someone they want. She’s had dreams about it, dirty ones and domestic ones, of being able to cuddle up to them whenever she wants, without having to think or second-guess. Of always having that support. They’re nice thoughts, wistful thoughts.

Assuming, that is, that they want to keep her. 

 

Tyler Seguin is beautiful. It’s something Ryan forgets in the chaos of sweaty hockey and the grind that is eighty-two games of the regular season. Tyler is fit and thin and model-gorgeous as she flicks through her phone at McCarran. Ryan looks like she’s fresh off a plane in an Oilers hoodie she’s actually pretty sure is Jordan’s and yoga pants. 

But then Tyler looks up and meets Ryan’s eyes. Her face lights up. “There you are!”

Tyler hugs her like they’ve been friends forever, and not merely friends due to a commonality so rarely shared by other women and built largely on long-distance texting. Ryan laughs and hugs back and thinks for a second that Tyler’s exuberance reminds her a lot of Taylor. 

“Okay, so, we’ll get you back to your hotel first. I’ve rented a car because we’re down here so early and I really wasn’t sure what kind of a shopper you are.” Tyler eyes Ryan up, then down. “And I’m still not sure, given you’re fresh off a plane and that is not a look that is good on anyone.” She has the good grace to lean in as she says, “And that is definitely not your sweatshirt.” She straightens again. “But we’ll get there. First,  _ bags _ .”

Ryan doesn’t exactly let Tyler drag her around the baggage claim and out to the car but she can’t say she really fights it either. Tyler chatters about this mall and that, the right cut and style and colour and Ryan is happy to let her at it. 

“But the hotel. Where you’re going to clean up and tell me  _ everything _ because leave it to you to fall in love with two teammates, my god. And not just any two, but your damn linemates. And Taylor Hall, which I do not get but, hey. What do I know. I’m surrounded by old sweaty married men all day.”

Ryan jolts for a moment and really looks at Tyler. It’s not that she looks miserable per se, but Ryan can admit life is easier with guys on her team that are single and around her age who don’t have a lot of responsibilities outside of hockey. There’s a tension in Tyler, like an itch she carries and Ryan bites the inside of her lip for a moment. 

Maybe Ryan’s not the only one that could use a little girl time. 

Ryan lets herself fall into it, the joy of having another woman with her, close to her age and just as giddy about shopping for a dress to absolutely destroy the sanity of not one man, but two.

“Seriously? Why didn’t you just walk in then?” 

Ryan turns from tucking away her last pair of sweats to side-eye Tyler. “Seriously?” she mimics. “I spent ten months convincing myself they didn’t want me in the middle of all that.” 

Tyler’s foot flicks the air where she’s not her calf balanced on her bent knee. “And? You learned in half that they were more than willing to have you in the middle. I would have been in there like a flash.” 

“They’re my  _ linemates _ , Segs. That crashes and burns and it takes the whole team down with them.”

“Jesus, you sound like Sid.”

Ryan only takes a little bit of pleasure in that relation. She’s not totally sure she wants to be like Sid in this respect. 

“Look, in the spirit of our fearless leader,” and though Segs rolls her eyes there’s a strange relief there that neither of them had to be First, “let me tell you the one thing she’s said that’s stuck with me.” Tyler actually shoves herself up and takes Ryan’s shoulders. “This league takes everything from you and more, if you let it. So when you get the opportunity to take something back, you hang on with both hands, okay?”

“I’m… not sure I know what that means?”

“It means screw the fucking NHL and the stupid idea that you’re going to fuck this up with Hallsy and Eberle - because let’s face it, if Hallsy hasn’t screwed it up by now absolutely nothing will-”

“Hey!”

“And let’s go find you a fucking killer dress, okay?”

Ryan, who makes a mental note to get  _ someone _ on the horn to check on Tyler with a little more regularity, nods. 

Shopping with Tyler is...an experience. She takes stacks and stacks of dresses, shoves them into Ryan’s arms, then shoves Ryan into dressing room after dressing room.

Then she makes her model every. Single. One.

“Segs, I thought you said you had a plan,” Ryan complains after the umpteenth dress. They’ve been shopping the entire  _ day.  _ She’s sure she’s never been in this many stores within the past  _ year.  _ She’s also fairly certain each and every dress she’s tried on costs more than her entire wardrobe.

“Sure,” Tyler says without skipping a beat. “The plan is to get you the perfect fuck-me dress so that the boys jump you. Boom! Problem gone.”

Ryan dies a little on the inside. Thank god the store they’re in so so upscale that the attendant barely even blinks. Whatever, it’s Vegas. She’s probably heard much worse. “Segs-”

She rolls her eyes. “Or fall to their knees and profess their undying love. Whatever floats your boat. Now go, I really want to see how that first one looks.”

That first dress turns out to be Ryan’s favorite. She never thought she could look like this and well...let’s just say it’s making her think this is actually possible.

The attendant gushes over it too, and when Ryan steps out to where Tyler’s sitting, she watches as the other girl’s smile widens into something distinctly shark-like. “Now that’s what I call a goddamn dress,” she declares, satisfaction oozing out of every pore. “She’ll take it.”

 

Between her parents and the other women, Ryan doesn’t see Jordan and Taylor until the day of the awards. The two of them are cooling their heels outside her room, already dressed in their suits, when she and Tyler return from the salon.

Taylor is the first to spot them, pushing off from the wall and stepping forward. His eyes scan her from head to toe, like he’s drinking in the sight of her, his fingers twitching like it’s all he can do to keep from grabbing her in a hug. Ryan takes an unconscious step forward in response, her gaze flicking over to Jordan. He hasn’t moved from his spot in front of her door, and it’s so Jordan, so cautious, but his gaze is no less hungry than Taylor’s.

Tyler snorts. “God, you three are ridiculous. I’ll see you at the awards - and don’t you  _ dare  _ mess up her hair and makeup. Later!” She sails into her room with a wave of her hand and an overly exaggerated wink in Ryan’s direction.

“Nice to know she still scares me,” Taylor mutters as the door closes behind her.

“She’s not so bad,” Ryan offers, and gulps when that draws their attention back to her. They’re frozen in that moment, a strange little impasse that no one seems to know how to overcome.

Ryan takes a deep breath. She’s the one who left. She’s the one who needs to fix this. She takes two giant steps and pulls them both into a hug, winding her arms around their shoulders and stepping up on her tiptoes. “I’ve missed you,” she says simply, and refrains from burying her head on one of their shoulders because she doesn’t want to smear makeup all over their suits.

Just like that, the months and the questions and the tension just melt away. The boys fold themselves around her, tugging her in, and all is simply right in the world once more. There’s no question, Ryan thinks. She has to tell them.

“It’s good to see you, Nuge,” Taylor mumbles. He has absolutely no problem burying his head in the crook of her neck, one large hand cradling her hip.

Jordan still doesn’t say anything, not until they’re inside her room and Ryan’s putting out her jewelry, purse, and shoes so that they’re ready to go once she’s showered and dressed. “You’ve been a stranger, Ryan.”

Ryan’s fingers pause on her bracelet. “I know,” she admits, feeling awful. “I just...was in a strange place at that point and needed some...space.”

Taylor makes a sound like she’s punched him in the gut. She can’t turn, won’t turn to look at him, but can see his reflection in the mirror anyway. “Nuge...Ryan...you know you can tell us anything, right? Even that you need some space.”

“I know,” she says quickly because it hurts her to hear him like that. “And I don’t need that space, not anymore. We can talk this out later, I promise, just...let’s enjoy the awards, okay?”

Now she turns, watches the silent communication between the two of them. Finally, Jordan nods, his expression softening. “Sure, Nuge,” he murmurs. “It’s your night.” He gestures towards the clock. “You should get ready.”

Right. They still have dinner reservations with her parents before the awards. Ryan grabs the garment bag holding her dress. “Of course. I’ll be right out.”

The shower is quick, and she’s very careful not to get water on her face or hair. She does, however, take a little time smoothing on the body butter Tyler talked her into and dabbing on the perfume, dark and sexy and unlike anything she owns, before slipping into the dress. It slips on easily, and she tries not to think about just how easily it can come  _ off _ . “Focus, Ryan,” she mutters to herself, before pushing the door open.

“Damn, Nuge,” Taylor breathes, scrambling to stand up from her bed. Jordan turns from his place at the window, his eyes widening as she emerges from the bathroom.

“What?” she laughs, stepping into the heels. “You’ve seen me dressed up before.” Granted, never  _ quite  _ so dressed up before - this is the NHL Awards, after all - but she does like making an effort every once in a while. This, however, is above and beyond.

Tyler was right, she thinks, walking to the dresser and feeling their eyes on her the whole time. It’s definitely a  _ dress.  _ Someone sucks in a breath when she turns and she grins. The satin dress is daringly backless, in stark contrast to the demure white color and the neckline that just covers the scar on her shoulder. “Cat got your tongue?” she teases, fastening her earrings.

She almost jumps out of her skin when Taylor comes up behind her, a big, broad hand landing at the small of her back. Fingers trail down one of the straps, making goosebumps break out on her skin in their wake. “This has to stop, Nuge.”

Her heart slams against her chest. Has she miscalculated? Do they not want her at all? Protests rise up in her throat but she swallows them. It’s Taylor and Jordan. If they want her to stop, then she will. 

“Because this thing…” Taylor meets her eyes in the mirror. Her knees go a little weak at the sheer  _ want  _ in his eyes and maybe she’d been right the first time. Maybe they don’t want her to stop at all. “Maybe it’s giving us the wrong idea.”

“And here I am, hoping you guys will get the  _ right _ one,”

Suddenly Taylor spins her, her back slamming against his chest, the hand on her back transferring to cover her stomach possessively. Jordan is still at the window, but his eyes are hot. Burning. “You’re going to have to explain that, Nuge,” he murmurs. Gone is her shy, smiley Jordan as he walks - no, that’s not the right word, he’s  _ prowling _ , moving in slow, deliberate steps that are doing absolutely nothing to slow her heart rate. 

God, she hopes she’s reading them right, otherwise this is going to be pretty damn humiliating. “I hang out with you because I love being with you. Both of you. And I flirt because I want you to flirt back. And maybe this will screw everything up and maybe it’s just hopeful thinking, but I think you feel the same way.”

“Fucking right we do,” Jordan growls, crowding in against her and kissing her, absolutely destroying her lipstick in the process. Not that she cares. She throws her arms around his neck as he devours her, feels Taylor’s other arm slide around Jordan to pull the three of them closer. He trails kisses along her neck, making her shudder.

Definitely read them right, she thinks giddily, tangling her fingers in Jordan’ hair and tugging slightly, making him groan and spin her, just like Taylor did earlier. Taylor moves in, kissing her with absolutely no hesitation and this is so much better than she could have ever dreamed. She can barely keep track of where her own hands are, let alone which hands are Jordan’s and which are Taylor’s. 

It’s heady. It’s delicious. It’s everything she wanted.

It’s also kind of ill-timed.

She lets out a sound that might be a gasp, but might be a whimper or a moan because dammit, they don’t have time for this. “The awards,” she manages.

“Fuck the awards,” Taylor mutters against her lips. This time, she laughs.

“As much as I’d love to do that, I’m pretty sure I can’t skip.” She trails her hands along his shoulders regretfully. “Also, my parents are expecting us at the restaurant in about twenty minutes.”

Jordan smiles against her neck. “We wouldn’t want to make a bad impression now, would we Hallsy? Besides,” he continues, his voice going husky as his hands stroke along Ryan’s stomach, making her shudder. “We’ll have all the time we want later.”

Somehow, she makes it through dinner with both of them and her parents. She’s not wholly sure what she eats, isn’t sure she could give an honest review of the place. She’s got Taylor’s heat on one side and Jordan’s on the other, and they trade food across all three plates like this is a regular season game and not a) the NHL awards where b) well….she’s not sure they’ll be using two hotel rooms, is what she’s saying. 

She remembers flashes of the red carpet, Tyler’s squeal when she sets her eyes on Ryan all dolled up, and the patient roll of Sid’s eyes. She has a vague recollection of a picture of all of them, Dani and Marcia sandwiching Sid between them to hold her still long enough for a picture. 

Her first utterly, startlingly clear picture of the red carpet is the way Jordan takes her hand near the end, twining their fingers together with an ease that makes her stomach warm. Taylor’s there too and they both make it so easy to pose between them, their heads all close. Taylor even presses a kiss to her hair and the flashbulbs go wild. 

She sits between them in the theatre even though the seats aren’t quite assigned that way. The minute she’s settled, Taylor’s arm slips around her shoulders, hand trailing lightly over her skin. She trembles a little and glares. 

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” she tells him, because her heart is still hammering at the idea that she won’t have to choose, that they won’t make her choose and they’re not choosing either. Jordan settles in next to her and slides a palm over her knee.

“Don’t worry,” he murmurs. “What Hallsy can’t finish, I can.” 

It opens a dam. Ryan isn’t sure she remembers the majority of the awards ceremony, too focused on the feel of Taylor on one side and Jordan on the other. Jordan’s hand doesn’t leave her knee and she’s not even sure she remembers when Gabe’s name is called over hers for the Calder. What she remembers is the way Taylor’s fingers slip over the back of her neck, an absent touch that leaves him looking just as awed as she feels. She bites her lip against the pleasure that thrums through her blood and Jordan’s hand tightens on her knee. 

“Fuck, stop that Nuge. Or I’m going to do it myself.” 

The hand on Taylor’s side reaches over, clenches around Jordan’s wrist because that is just blatantly not fair. 

It’s Sid, later, that tells her about Malkin’s awards (gushes really, and honestly), Carey who is beaming in pride over Patches’ Masterson win. She gets the entire awards recapped to her second hand while her eyes track Taylor and Jordan around the after party and lets each of them in turn tug her onto the dance floor. She spends the entirety of the evening flushed and dizzy under Taylor and Jordan’s easy attentiveness, the blind way she seeks them out with a grin on her face and anticipation making her hands shake a little. 

And finally,  _ finally _ , Taylor finds her in deep conversation with Gabe and Strome, eyes deep blue and blown. She’s already standing, halfway up before he asks, “Ready?”

She is. More than. 

Jordan’s got his hands in his pockets when they meet up with him at the doors. His elbow twitches when he sees them and it takes Ryan a minute to realize he wants to reach out, he wants to touch. He ducks his head when she steps closer because she has to, because she wants to. 

“I start now and I won’t stop,” he tells her and there is a sheepish tilt to his mouth, even beneath all the want in his gaze. 

So she glances over her shoulder at Taylor who doesn’t look much better off, his eyes fixed on the long stretch of her spine. Ryan shivers despite the warm Vegas night and bites on her lip. Taylor’s eyes follow the move, still so dark, so blown. 

“Ryan.” There’s a note of desperation she can hear, one that leaves her blood thumping in her veins, her own urgency rising up her throat. She needs them. Both of them. She needs her skin against theirs, their hands on her, her hands on them. 

No one stops them on their way to the elevator and Ryan shivers when Taylor spreads his hand over the bare skin at the bottom of her spine. It leaves Jordan as the one to call for the elevator as Taylor crowds against her back. Her eyes flutter closed as Taylor’s breath fans against her shoulders and neck. His hands feel so big spread across her hips as he slides her in front of him. 

“We’ve waited forever, Ryan,” he murmurs into her ear. 

Her laugh is low as her eyes open to meet Jordan’s. There’s a beautiful flush on his cheeks as he watches them, his eyes unable to fix on one spot. They flick over her body, to Taylor pressed into her back and Ryan grins. “Me too.”

The ding of the elevator just barely drowns out the groan Taylor muffles into her skin and Ryan trembles with it. Then Taylor’s crowding her into the elevator and Ryan barely manages to keep herself from tumbling into Jordan’s arms with a laugh before the elevator closes behind them. 

When it does and the car jolts into movement, Jordan’s hand darts out, his fingers wrapping around her wrist. Ryan doesn’t need much coaxing, her head already tipping and angling just right to accept Jordan’s kiss. Ryan shivers the moment their lips meet. This is the delicious predatory Jordan from their hotel room moments before the awards, hot and demanding as he brushes his tongue against her mouth. Ryan opens easily for him, hands fisted in the lapels of his suit jacket. She groans into his mouth when he bites at her lip, just as he’s promised. She feels Taylor’s hand, feather-like at the back of her neck before he drags it down her spine in a drawn out tease and Ryan moans. 

“Come on,” Taylor says, just moments before the car slows and the elevator doors open. Ryan lets Taylor tug her away from Jordan and weaves her fingers through Taylor’s. He laughs a little at the sweetness inherent in the gesture, leading the way down the hall. Ryan presses herself against his back when he stops to pull the keycard from his pocket. She looks over her shoulder at Jordan as she settles her hands low on Taylor’s hips. 

“I want to watch you guys,” she says, letting her fingers trail down onto Taylor’s thighs. 

“We get each other all the time,” Jordan argues as the door beeps open. He’s right at her back, nudging her into Taylor and into the room. “We’ve never had you.” 

Despite the heat that pools low in her gut, Ryan slides out from between them and deftly around Taylor, leaving them both in the small entry way. She slips out of her shoes and kicks them aside as she turns to face them. “Exactly.” she says. “I’ve never seen you.”

They’re both watching her with faces filled with want and it’s a heady, wonderful feeling, the indisputable proof that this isn’t one-sided. Or even two-sided. They want her. 

“Come on,” she says, and yeah, maybe there’s a little bit of a taunt in it, a little bit of a challenge. “Show me how you kiss each other.” 

It’s Jordan that takes the initiative, wrapping his arm around Taylor’s middle. Taylor turns easily into the hold and Ryan is reminded that this is something they’ve done for ages and it looks as effortless as it is hot. Ryan feels her breath speed up as she watches them kiss and get entirely wrapped up in each other. Taylor’s groaning out every other breath and his hands are on Jordan’s shoulders, shoving his jacket down to catch on Jordan’s elbows while Taylor starts in on Jordan’s shirt buttons. 

Ryan’s transfixed. She can’t stop watching them, can’t even choose a place to focus. Taylor strips Jordan’s shirt from his shoulders where it catches with his jacket since Jordan seems perfectly content to keep his hands on Taylor; under Taylor’s untucked shirt, running over what Ryan can only assume is the waistband of his pants. There’s a moan she doesn’t recognize. She’s so caught up in them that it takes Taylor breaking away from the kiss for Ryan to realize the sound had come from her. 

“Ryan,” Taylor beckons, holding his hand out even as he tips his head to give Jordan better access to his neck. Ryan doesn’t have room in her mind for anything other than them as she takes Taylor’s hand again and lets him draw her in. Jordan moves back just enough to give her space to slide between them and rests the hand not gripping Taylor’s neck over the satin on Ryan’s waist. 

“Lose the jacket and shirt,” Taylor demands, even as he locks gazes with Ryan. “It’s my turn.”

Taylor presses down on her chin until her mouth drops open, just a little before he kisses her, his hand spreading out against the back of her healing shoulder. It’s more enthusiastic than Jordan and not quite as smooth, but it’s no less potent. She hears the rustle of clothing before Jordan’s bare chest is pressed against her back. She sighs into Taylor’s mouth. 

“Hey Ryan,” Jordan murmurs into her shoulder, hips pressing his slowly hardening cock against her ass. “I think Taylor’s a little overdressed for this party.” He kisses her shoulder, sucks a little where it meets her neck. “Give me a hand?” 

It takes more coordination than she’d thought. Taylor doesn’t stop kissing her as she feels her way along the buttons of his shirt, slipping them carefully out of the holes. She gets distracted by his chest when the dress shirt parts, stroking over skin and muscle. Taylor’s moan vibrates against her lips as he tries to slide his hands down her waist and around her back, Jordan’s arms in the way as he unbuckles Taylor’s pants. Jordan’s mouth is all over her neck, her shoulders, nudging the strap of her dress along her skin. He grunts out his displeasure when the strap refuses to budge any further. 

“Taylor.” The low growl leaves goosebumps on her skin. Jordan’s hands are still between her and Taylor, and she can feel them every time she presses forward to rock back into his cock. “Taylor, strip Ryan.” 

Ryan can’t help the shiver that takes her body nor the sound it pulls from her throat. It’s a sound both Jordan and Taylor echo and Ryan slides her hands up to shove Taylor’s jacket and shirt off his body, then up his chest to fist in his hair. She hisses when her shoulder twinges but shakes her head when Taylor moves to pull back. “Taylor,” she breathes. “Yes, please.” 

“Fuck, Ryan,” Jordan says, pressing his hips harder into her ass. She drops her head back on his shoulder. It arches her back as Taylor settles his hands on her shoulders, his fingers slipping along the satin straps of her dress. 

“Ryan,” Taylor says and waits for her to open her eyes. His fingertips flutter over her jawline as she forces herself to focus. His mouth is so red, so swollen, and that’s from  _ her _ . “Do you have any idea how gorgeous you look?” 

She huffs out something that may have been a laugh if it weren’t for the fact that Jordan chooses that moment to bite gently on her earlobe. Her breath catches instead and she has to lick her lips a few times before she can say, “I know you want me; I’m already here. You don’t need to flatter me.” 

She gets barely a split second to see a frown work its way across Taylor’s face before Jordan’s spinning her around between them. He doesn’t look any happier than Taylor. “It’s not flattery,” he says. “Not just flattery.”

“We mean it,” Taylor agrees and his fingers are trailing across the neckline of her dress now, dancing underneath and along her scar, then back up to her shoulders to tug the straps down her arms. “We really, really mean it.” 

Ryan isn’t sure she’s breathing when Jordan takes her chin gently in his fingers. The look in his eyes is more than want. “We want you. So very much. You know that, right?” Jordan asks. 

She can feel her dress slither down her body to pool around her feet, but Jordan doesn’t so much as glance down. His face is intense as he waits for her answer, even as Taylor’s hands stroke at the miles and miles of bare skin now open to his gaze. She swallows. 

“I know you  _ want  _ me,” she finally whispers because that, well, that hasn’t been a question for months now. That’s the easy part. But just how far does that extend? One night? Two? A whole season? She jumps when Taylor nips at her shoulder. “Hey!”

“We don’t just want you,” and Ryan can hear the eyeroll in Taylor’s voice. “What Jordan wants to tell you is that we want you for more than just tonight.” His lips are warm against her shoulder. “We want you here, we want you back in Edmonton, on road trips… in sweats on the couch and sweaty after a workout.”

“Not just a threesome. Polyamory,” Jordan says, his eyes darting to where Taylor’s head is curled over her shoulder and because of course Jordan would be the one that needed a word, a label. She can feel the indulgent smile spread across Taylor’s mouth from where it’s pressed against her skin. Ryan tips her head to the side to rest against Taylor’s and Jordan’s grip on her chin tightens marginally, tellingly. His eyes come back to hers. “This is it, Ryan. We do this tonight and we’re not letting go.” 

Ryan’s breath shakes as she releases it, her fingers curling at Jordan’s hips. 

“We love you,” Taylor says right into her ear. “You are  _ ours _ .” 

The claim in his voice makes her tremble; the possession in his hands against her stomach make her moan. “Yes,” she finds herself saying, easy as breathing. 

Jordan presses in close, the heat of him at her front and Taylor at her back. She’s surrounded and held, and Jordan’s got her jaw cupped in his palm. “Say it, Ryan.” 

The command in his voice shouldn’t send her heart flipping. “Yours,” she says, her hands sliding up Jordan’s chest. “I’m yours.” And then, because Jordan’s eyes have gone deliciously molten, she licks her lips and says, “For keeps.” 

Jordan groans and kisses her, drops his arms and reaches for Taylor. Ryan gasps when Jordan yanks Taylor in, her bare breasts pressed to his chest. It’s a testament to how important ‘forever’ is that neither Taylor, nor Jordan, has realized she’s completely naked between them. Jordan breaks the kiss to step back, hands dropping to her hips. This, she knows, is different than any other context of nakedness and she lets Jordan look his fill while she reaches for his pants. 

“Now who’s overdressed,” she quips, even as she presses her bare ass back against Taylor. 

“Everyone but you,” Taylor murmurs and Ryan gets the mind-numbing pleasure of watching Jordan’s face as Taylor cups both her breasts in his hands. Jordan toes his shoes off as Ryan gets his pants undone, shoves his boxers down with them. He yanks his socks off too before slipping his hand over her hips and ass as her arms come around his neck. She squeaks when he lifts her, laughs joyfully and thanks the hockey gods that even though she’s just as built as Taylor and Jordan, she’s still that little bit smaller.

“Naked, Taylor,” he commands and steps deftly around the mess of clothing to get to the beds. 

It’s only a couple of steps before he’s lowering her feet back to the floor. She stays there, pressed skin against skin, his cock caught between them. His hand comes up to tuck the flyaways that have come loose from her hairstyle back behind her ear. 

“Now what?” she whispers and glances over Jordan’s shoulder when Taylor steps up behind Jordan. 

“Back on the bed,” Taylor answers and Ryan moves reluctantly sitting on the edge. She drags her gaze down Jordan’s body as she goes and her eyes catch on his cock. Her mouth waters. 

“Fuck, Ryan, not yet.” She and Jordan both groan at Taylor’s words. “Up on the bed, come on.” 

So Ryan goes, her slow slide up the comforter a kind of reluctance rather than attempt at seduction. It’s heady, having them both watch her like this, towering over the bed. Taylor’s kissing Jordan’s shoulders now, his hand sliding up and down Jordan’s sides a few times before wrapping around his cock. Jordan’s eyes flutter and his mouth drops open.

“Lie back, Nuge,” Taylor says, “Let us look.”

She does, shifting against the pillows until she’s comfortable. She can’t look away from Taylor’s hand and her own rests against her stomach, trails slowly up until she can cup her breast in her hand. 

“Oh fuck. Jordan, you gotta look.” 

She can’t take both of them watching her. Her heart’s already thumping hard in her chest from the absolute desire on Taylor’s face, from the way she lets her fingers dance across her nipple, stroking, plucking. 

“Fuck.” And that’s definitely Jordan. She moans and arches her back, pushes her breast into her own hand. A moment later she feels his hand on her knee, a gentle pressure and she complies, spreading her legs. Those same hands are feather light down her shins and she hears someone, Jordan, she thinks, moan. 

“Look at that. All for us.” 

She forces herself to open her eyes, to watch them both as they watch her. Heat thumps through her blood as she cups her other breast in her free hand and watches Taylor bite his lip. “God, someone touch me.” 

Jordan doesn’t waste time. He’s on the bed a moment later between her spread thighs, his mouth pressed against her stomach. Ryan gasps and drops her hands to wind through his hair trying to tug him up, up. She needs to be kissed like she needs to breathe, needs something else to focus on. Taylor’s there a moment later, pressed as best he can against her side. She lifts her good hand from Jordan’s hair to hold Taylor in place, thrusts her tongue into his mouth. Everything fades and centres on Taylor’s kiss until Jordan unceremoniously wraps his mouth around her nipple. She keens a little, an aborted sound and Taylor breaks away from her mouth to watch. 

“You hear that, Jordan? Do that again.” He meets her gaze. “I want to hear you, Ryan.” 

She’s going to die. That’s what this is going to do to her. There are too many hands, too many mouths as Taylor ducks his head to lick at her other breast. She can feel how wet she is between her thighs from the whole evening of teasing. She uses her hand in Jordan’s hair to yank him up and it’s not gentle, if Jordan’s hiss is anything to go by. She’s too busy trying to get at his mouth to care, biting at his lip until he lets her in. 

“More,” she finally says, stroking her other hand down Taylor’s back. “I want more.” 

Jordan’s eyes are completely blown when he pulls back to look down at her, flicks his gaze to where Taylor’s got his mouth pressed to her ribs. “Wanna eat her out, Taylor?”

“Fuck yes,” Taylor says, eyes widening as Ryan groans. “Ryan-”

“Of course yes, fuck,” she says and laughs a little hysterically. “Yes, yes, fuck yes.” 

So Jordan pulls away and ignores both of their whines as he leaves the bed. He laughs at them instead, “You heard the lady.” 

She smacks the side of Taylor’s head when he snorts, but then he’s shifting between her splayed thighs and Ryan doesn’t care whether he thinks she’s a lady or not so long as he gets his mouth on her. Soon. She’s had a thing for Taylor’s mouth for ages, has more than dreamt about what his face would look like between her spread thighs. This is so much better though, Taylor’s mouth just above where she’s wet and aching. Jordan reappears a moment later over Taylor’s back, his hands smoothing over Taylor’s ass as he climbs up on his knees. There’s just enough room, Ryan thinks as a shiver races down her spine and leaves her panting in its wake. 

“We’re going to do it just like this,” Jordan tells her, and Ryan watches, breath caught in her throat as he leans down and kisses Taylor’s back. The latter groans into her skin and her hips buck involuntarily. He’s so close, just a little lower…

“What do you think, Taylor? I’ll fuck you and you can fuck Ryan.” 

Taylor gives a full bodied shiver and Ryan watches Jordan reach for the lube he’d grabbed while Taylor settled between her thighs. God, she wants to watch this, she really does. She wants to see Taylor’s face when Jordan pushes one slick finger into him, but the reprieve Taylor gets as Jordan deals with the lube is enough time for him to spread Ryan open and slide his tongue up the length of her. 

Her head drops back on a groan, eyes falling closed. She feels more than hears Taylor’s moan and forces her eyes back open. Jordan’s watching her even as he spreads Taylor’s ass to so, so carefully slide the tip of a finger inside him. Ryan’s breath catches. 

“He likes getting fucked,” Jordan says conversationally. Ryan finds herself swallowing around the heated lump in her throat. She can picture it, up behind Taylor on her knees with the strap-on (that she doesn’t yet own but is definitely going to buy sometime soon), Jordan with one hand on Taylor’s cock, the other just sliding out from where Jordan’s worked him open. 

Jordan groans, eyes hot like he can figure out what she’s got in mind, the finger inside Taylor starting to thrust. “We’ll get there,” he promises. “We are definitely going to get there.”

Ryan lets out a humming keen of a noise, part agreement, part pleasure. Taylor’s tongue is hot and she is so, so slick and she drops a hand to his head, tangling in his hair. Taylor moans, eyes fluttering open to stare up her body at her. 

“Taylor,” she breathes, his name hiccuping at the end as she lifts her eyes just in time to see Jordan slide another finger into Taylor’s ass with a happy little hum. 

“Go on, Ryan. Tell him what you like,” Jordan says. He looks just as interested in hearing it as he says Taylor is and Ryan clenches her hand in Taylor’s hair as she moans. It turns into a whimper when Taylor moves away from her core, pressing his mouth, wet with the slick of her, to her thigh. 

“Give a guy a hand.” And the grin he’s pressing into her leg is decidedly smug. Ryan groans, this time in annoyance as she directs him back to her core. He goes easily but holds her open, tongue pressed against her, and waits. 

“Fuck you,” she breathes and rolls her hips down against his face. Another fantasy flashes through her mind’s eye, sitting on Taylor’s face while Jordan’s up behind her, fingers rolling and playing with her nipples, mouth biting against her neck, leaving bruises in his wake. 

Taylor grunts against her skin and Ryan’s eyes are drawn back to a smug-looking Jordan, pumping his fingers in and out of Taylor in what must be a tempting tease. Jordan can’t seem to choose whether he wants to watch her face, the sinuous roll of her hips into Taylor’s mouth or how well Taylor’s taking his fingers. Ryan trembles. 

“Taylor,” she gasps out, “Fingers. Put your fingers inside me.” 

And bless him he does, but not without shifting back on Jordan’s fingers and evidently lining up everything just right for his prostate. He shakes above her for a moment, head bowed and palm braced against her lower stomach. All three of them moan before Ryan uses the hand still in Taylor’s hair to yank him back down. Taylor takes the hint immediately and laps at her clit, sliding a finger inside her. She chokes off a cry and feels her body clench down reflexively. It’s been a while, and she’s weirdly grateful for how easy he’s starting. 

And yet. 

“Come on, Taylor,” she moans and sighs when he slides another one right in with the first. There’s an absent part of her brain that’s a little impressed with Taylor’s ability to multitask here and by the fact that he doesn’t immediately start thrusting his fingers so much as he tries to feel her out until she gasps. Her body arches, the hand she’s got in the comforter clenching until her knuckles are white. She writhes a little, hissing as her shoulder takes her weight until she relaxes back into the bed.

“That’s it, Ryan. Taylor’s got you,” Jordan murmurs, his hand moving along where her knee is bent against Taylor’s side. 

She feels Taylor groan into her and she echoes it, pushes against Taylor’s fingers. He takes the hint, starts thrusting and she’s glad for it when he moves his mouth to pant harshly into her thigh. 

“Jordan. Fuck, Jordan, please,” Taylor moans into Ryan’s skin.

“Patience, Taylor. God, you’ve got your face in Ryan and you’re worried about getting yours too? Greedy.”

Ryan laughs, though it gets lost in a gasp when Taylor shifts his hand to press his thumb into her clit. It’s not what she wants, but she moves into it anyway because the half a brain cell that isn’t completely consumed by them, by this, by Taylor’s touch, tells her that the reason Taylor can’t focus is because Jordan’s got his fingers buried in Taylor’s ass and, well. She can’t really blame him. 

Still, it’s not quite enough, and Ryan finds herself whining until Taylor gives in and wraps his mouth around her clit again. It’s exactly what she needs and her back arches as she comes, stars bursting behind her eyes. She’s slow to come down. Feeling returns first, the way Taylor’s nuzzling her cheek and neck, the vague and absent complaining of her still-healing injury. Her breath is still harsh and fast as she manages to bring her arms up to wrap around his back, pet at his hair. Her voice is next, even if she has to swallow a few times to manage, “Fuck me.”

“We’re getting there.”

Ryan’s eyes fly open to meet Jordan’s and she lets a slow smile spread over her face. Her hands drag down Taylor’s back to cup his ass in her palms and spread his cheeks. Jordan lets out a harsh breath and it’s Ryan’s turn to hum, warm and confident. Taylor trembles against her as she slides her fingers in to dance around his asshole, his teeth nipping at her shoulder.

“Three fingers?” she murmurs in a sort of surprise. “I bet it feels so good, huh?”

“So good, Ry,” Taylor agrees into her neck. 

Ryan grins at Jordan, tracing her fingers along his hand until she wraps them around his wrist. She’s gentle and slow as she drags Jordan’s fingers out of Taylor. “Get condoms,” she orders.

Taylor’s eyes are bright and hot as he lifts his head to kiss her. Her taste in his mouth isn’t the hottest thing she’s ever dealt with during sex, but he’s eager and desperate, rocking gently against her. She sighs in contentment and lets him help lower her slowly back to the bed. 

“What do you think, Taylor?” she asks from the pillows, hands curled gently by her ears. “Wanna fuck me?”

“Dumb fucking question,” he says into the skin of her cheek, then tilts his head to find Jordan just watching, condoms clenched in his hand. “What’s the hold up?” 

“You look really fucking hot together,” is Jordan’s easy answer as he returns to the bed and passes Taylor one of the packets. Then Ryan’s treated to the view of her life, watching two sets of strong hands on two hard cocks. And they want her. She moans and sits up, reaching for Taylor. Jordan waylays her with a hand on the back of her neck, directing her into his kiss. Her hands drop to the bed just behind her hips, clenching in the comforter.

“Next time, you’re mine,” he says into her mouth and kisses her again, deep and thorough. 

“Okay, okay.” Taylor breaks in, makes room for himself by pushing Jordan away and Ryan back just a little. “You said next time. I’d like to fuck Ryan before I retire here.” 

“You want to get fucked, you mean,” Jordan chirps back, but he shifts out of Taylor’s way. 

Ryan spreads her thighs a little wider to cradle Taylor between them, grinning as she says, “He’s not the only one.” 

“You’re going to be the death of both of us,” Taylor scolds, even as he reaches down to line himself up. It’s a slow, torturous intrusion and Ryan does her best to relax, to stop herself from bucking up and getting him deeper, faster. It’s been a while, and even wet and open as she is from her first orgasm, he fills her up wonderfully. She groans and presses her head back into the pillows. Both she and Taylor panting when he’s in as far as is comfortable and Ryan shifts beneath him. 

“Good?” 

Jordan’s voice is so, so strained, his eyes so intense. Ryan has to swallow and breathe before she can so much as nod. “Good.”

Then it’s Taylor’s turn to catch his breath as Jordan shuffles up to press inside, his knees spreading Taylor’s, and therefore hers, so, so wide. Taylor pants into her neck as Jordan stills, gets his hands on Taylor’s hips. “Ready?”

Taylor groans his assent and Ryan nods, her eyes still locked on Jordan’s face. She feels Jordan pull back, taking Taylor with him just enough for her to feel it. Then Jordan’s pressing in again, the force of it driving Taylor into her and Ryan gasps. 

“Holy fuck. Jordan.” 

It takes a few stutter starts to really get into a rhythm. Taylor keeps chasing the press of Jordan’s cock inside him and it pulls him further out of Ryan than she likes, but eventually, they figure it out. It’s like nothing Ryan’s ever experienced before, Taylor hot and hard inside her, around her, but Jordan right there, one of his hands dropping from Taylor’s hip to stroke along her thigh as she arches into Taylor, hands restlessly stroking every inch of skin she can reach. Taylor’s incoherent as he rocks between them, his hand clenched in the pillows by Ryan’s head. She can feel the shift of his forearms from beneath her shoulders every time he grips harder, her arms around his waist, his neck, scratching down his back. 

“Jordan. Jordan, fuck.”

Ryan laughs a little, clenches down around Taylor.  “Just Jordan?” she asks and shifts until everything’s lined up just right. It makes her clench around him again as she gasps.

Taylor groans. “Fuck, fuck, Ryan, Jordan, fuck.”

Ryan’s had a lot of fantasies about Taylor, about Jordan, about Jordan and Taylor, but nothing she could have ever imagined includes the flush high on Taylor’s cheeks, or the determination and exertion in Jordan’s face. Nothing could have prepared her for the delicious way Taylor fills her every time Jordan thrusts into him, the way Taylor can’t seem to keep from writhing and trembling. 

“There you are. You close, Taylor?”

“Fuck you, you know I am.” 

Jordan hums as he spreads a hand at Taylor’s lower back, drags it up until it’s tangling with Ryan’s at Taylor’s nape. His fingers tremble and Ryan blinks for a moment, breath catching as Jordan bites his lip and picks up speed. Taylor laughs, a little hysterically and Ryan bites her own lip against a grin. She strokes the hand not tangled with Jordan’s through Taylor’s hair. 

“He’s close too,” she murmurs and they both hear Jordan groan. Taylor tries to kiss her, but it’s more of an open-mouth press, too far gone to give it any finesse. Ryan nips at his bottom lip, full and swollen. “You can get him there, can’t you Taylor?” 

Taylor just groans and pulls away from her mouth to drop his head in the pillows. Jordan’s eyes are blown when she looks up at him and he pulls back to give one particularly hard thrust. Taylor chokes a sound off in her ear and Ryan’s eyes flutter. It’s not quite enough, just riding the edge of it, but Jordan does it again, once, twice more and Taylor shudders hard, groaning into the pillows as he comes. Taylor’s body clenching and bearing down must be what does it for Jordan too because his eyes go a bit glassy as he thrusts once more into Taylor and stills with a loud moan. 

Ryan can’t stop the little thrusts of her hips, even as Taylor finally starts to move, shifting his weight to press her down with the entirety of his body weight. “Ryan, you gotta stop.”

“Can’t,” she breathes because dammit, watching them both come is one of the hottest things Ryan’s seen in a very, very long time. 

“God, okay just… For a second okay, just stop moving for a second.”

She tries, she really does, but it is much longer than Taylor’s promised second before Jordan finally moves off Taylor. The latter groans as Jordan pulls out gently but it gives him the space to roll off to the side. Ryan moans, sliding a hand down her sweat-soaked chest and stomach to touch herself, but Jordan is there, shoving at Taylor so he can get his own taste of Ryan, wrapping his lips immediately around her clit. Ryan soars and cries out as she shakes through her second orgasm of the night, arching helplessly, muscles so, so taut. 

Jordan’s stroking her softly as she comes down, wringing out the last few aftershocks that leave her shaking and spent. She whimpers, isn’t totally sure why until Taylor wraps her up in his arms curling until he’s buried her face in his neck and just holds on. 

“Shh,” he murmurs into her hair. “I know, it’s a lot. We’ve got you. It’s okay.” 

She feels Jordan’s hand against her bare back, firm and stroking with Taylor’s rhythm until her heart starts to slow. Then he’s sliding away, despite Ryan’s whine. 

“Gotta deal with the condom,” Taylor says into her hair in amusement. “God you’re needy when you’re fucked out.”

She slaps him, but it has no heat or strength behind it. Fucked out isn’t far from the truth. Two really solid orgasms will do that to her. 

“Don’t listen to him,” Jordan says from the end of the bed. “He cried the first time I fucked him.” 

Ryan lifts her head out of Taylor’s neck to grin at him. Taylor doesn’t look at all disgruntled or annoyed. He’s looking at her, affection and adoration all over his face. 

“It’s different when you’re in love, isn’t it?” 

Ryan’s breath catches in her lungs for a moment and she has to close her eyes against everything that wells up in her all over again. “Yeah.”

Jordan clears his throat, but his voice still sounds like it’s been dragged over gravel when he says. “Come on. We have to clean up.” Then he frowns down at the empty half of the bed. “And there’s no way in hell I’m sleeping in the wet spot.” 

The three of them in one shower, even a fancy Vegas hotel shower, is awkward and hilarious in equal measure. Ryan ends up making out with Jordan while Taylor soaps them both down, shamelessly using his body heat to ward off the chill of the hotel’s air conditioning. She and Jordan return the favour, hands all over Taylor and Ryan can’t stop herself from pulling him in to kiss. Then again, now she doesn’t have to. 

When they’re out and dry, Ryan braiding her hair over the sink, it’s Jordan that sneaks up behind her and clings a little, head buried in her neck, mouth against her skin. 

“For a while, I didn’t think you wanted this.” 

Ryan makes a pained noise and Jordan lifts his head to meet her gaze in the mirror. 

“And then… two of you, you know?” 

Yeah, she really does. She has to look away to grab her elastic, but she turns carefully in his arms the minute she’s snapped it in place. “At first, I didn’t think you wanted me. You had each other.” Jordan frowns and she lifts her hand to stroke at the corner of his mouth. “And then… two of you.” 

He presses a kiss to her forehead. “I love you. It had to be three of us.” 

Ryan laughs because yeah, yeah it did. 

“When you two are done being sappy...”

Ryan arches an eyebrow at Taylor over Jordan’s shoulder. “Feeling left out, Hallsy?” She highly doubts it, if the look on his face is any indication. He’s perfectly happy watching them, she thinks. But then he raises an eyebrow. 

“Cuddling is better in bed. And this time I get to  _ touch _ .” 

He sounds warm, not suggestive, but Ryan blushes anyway, thinking of all those times they’d cuddled before, how different it’s going to feel now that she knows she can stroke a hand down Taylor’s side or throw a leg over Jordan’s thigh. Now that she knows she can kiss them, either of them, whenever she wants. “Yeah.” 

Later, curled up in the other bed, Ryan confesses. “I heard the two of you talking about me that morning.” From the combined intake of breath, there’s no need to clarify what morning she’s talking about. “I’d wanted both of you for months and thought I was screwing everything up and then...it was a lot to take in. It almost seemed like a sign when the trainers handed me that plane ticket.”

Taylor reaches across her body to prod Jordan in the shoulder. “See, I told you she suspected something.”

“And I should have listened,” Jordan sighs. “I know, I know.” He shifts so that he’s spooned against Ryan’s back, his hand falling to her stomach like that long ago hotel room in Chicago. “I couldn’t...we couldn’t help it, Nuge. You came in and everything became better because of you. Edmonton. Hockey. Us.”

“We were kinda slow though,” Taylor adds, scooting in closer and tangling his legs with hers. “We didn’t really know we could be an  _ us  _ for a while, but when we did…” He cups her chin, his thumb trailing along her cheek. Ryan’s pulse stutters, so surrounded, so utterly  _ wanted  _ that she can barely breathe.

“I didn’t know until then,” she whispers. “Not really. And it took me a while to really believe it.”

“Do you believe it now?” Jordan asks, his lips brushing her shoulder.

It’s so easy to say the words now. “Of course I do. I love you. Both of you.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> For more Girl Brigade, come to tumblr and chat!: [wonthetrade.](wonthetrade.tumblr.com)


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